Innocent Souls
by Elf
Summary: D is hired to kill a something with a history as long as the vampires and even more powerful. An Unseelie Faerie who is stealing the souls of children for dark purposes.
1. Prologue: Child Wraith

**Disclaimer:**_Vampire Hunter D _is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

**Author's Notes: **After a two year hiatus from fan fiction for writing my first original novel, I return. The novel's done, and as I'm waiting for it to be proofed for me so I can edit it, I decided to write a fan fiction so I wouldn't go insane.

**Rating: _Mature. _**This story will feature violence, language, adult themes such as racism and ethnic cleansing, and sexual content.

**Contact: **All feedback is welcome at Souls  


**_Prologue: Child Wraith_**

**By: Elf**

He screamed.

The little boy shrieked in pure, unadulterated terror. He stumbled backwards over a chair. He started to fall, but he twisted unnaturally nimbly and grabbed the desk in his room to pull himself up.

The boy looked up with huge eyes at the looming specter before him.

It was black, solid blackness and wide spread, reminding him of his father's cloak. It wavered by some unseen breeze. A pale, glowing, strangely beautiful hand with long, delicate fingers topped with nails like opals reached for him.

The boy stood there, collecting his fear. Part of his brain was shutting down, making way for a colder, predatory, more rational way of thought. The thing smelled odd, not bad, but the child's keen senses smelled ozone and juniper.

Magic, he was smelling magic thick on the air.

The wraith drifted towards him. The moonlight from the huge window behind the boy seemed to be sucked in by the creature's darkness. All save for that pale, glowing hand that stretched out.

The wraith gained a more humanoid shape and form as it approached. Its face was hidden by a hood as dark as the rest of him. There was a faint glimmer within that hood, like eyes.

"It's better if you do not resist me, child," the wraith said in a soft, whispering voice before lunging at him.

The child rolled out of the thing's way. He sprang up to his feet and ran towards the door. He screamed, "Papa, Momma!" He ran surprisingly fast, but his room was too large and the wraith too fast.

It sprung in front of the boy, hovering slightly off the ground. It reached that hand towards him. The boy hissed instinctively and bared small, but rapidly growing fangs.

The door sprang open.

The wraith spun around and the boy stepped back. Standing in the doorway was a woman with long, tumbling chestnut curls haloed by the candle she held. Her sorrel colored eyes widened at the sight before her.

"_Nae_. Ye shall not have him," the boy's mother hissed in her lilting accent. In her other hand she had her sword. It was a rapier with a shimmering blade and pale stones set into the hand guard. The candle lit the other side of her face, revealing a long, jagged scar running from her forehead, curving around her cheek, and ending at her chin.

The boy cried out, "Momma!"

"Cedric, get to your father," Cedric's mother replied before rushing at the creature, her white night gown streaming behind her.

The wraith dodged from his mother's myriad of strikes. Cedric leapt over the chair and started to dart out of the room. He knew he shouldn't look back. If there was trouble, he was never to look back and only run.

Then he heard the scream.

Cedric's fangs throbbed as a sweet, coppery scent filled the room. He spun around to see that glowing hand sticking _out_ through his mother's back. She coughed and red froth bubbled out of her mouth. She turned her head to look at Cedric.

"Run, Poppet, run," she whispered before the thing jerked his hand out of his mother's body. Her scream echoed through Cedric's ears before she fell onto the ground like a broken butterfly. Blood colored her nightgown crimson and she stared ahead with glassy eyes as the wraith swept past her. The sword lay on the ground forgotten.

Cedric screamed as tears streamed down his face. The wraith laughed in its whispering voice and Cedric _hated_ it. He focused on the hatred, let it bubble up and boil to the surface as the sweet smell overwhelmed him.

His tiny hands formed sharp claws. His dark sorrel eyes glowed crimson in the darkness. He bared long, sharp fangs and snarled at the wraith.

Then he sprung forward.

Lord Malcolm Blackmoure snarled in pain.

The noble vampire was being swarmed by countless winged humanoid creatures no higher than his knees. Some where bald as a babe, others sported long, stringy white hair that swayed with each movement. Their skins were the color of stone and their eyes glowed golden in the darkness. Their tiny hands ended in razor sharp claws, and their mouths were filled with sharp, pointed teeth unlike a shark's, all the same even size and serrated to get a better bite.

Their mouths and teeth tore ragged chunks of flesh and drew cold blood in crimson rivulets on the vampire's white skin. He heard Cedric's screams and snarled at the things trying to devour him. He jumped back and grabbed one.

He jerked it hard and its neck made a satisfying crack. He tossed it to the side before throwing another one into the wall. He hissed, "Do you think such lowly creatures could stop me from reaching my child?"

His fingernails grew into claws. He jabbed his hand through one of their skulls. The winged creature's skin felt like stone, but Blackmoure was now beyond the point of pain or reason. There was one desire on his mind as his fangs bared and his eyes glowed.

The thing twitched satisfactory on his hand. He tore into the creatures, scattering them apart. Then he took to the air when another of Cedric's screams broke the sounds of the things' inconsistent chatter.

He flew down the hallway, a blur of darkness.

As he flew closer to his child's room his eyes widened in horror as a familiar scent reached him.

_No, no, no . . ._

"Moira! Cedric!" the noble screamed as he touched down and threw open his child's bedroom door.

His beautiful, fierce Moira, the hunter that had come to kill him years ago, but had captured his heart instead, lay on the ground like a broken doll. Her white nightgown was crimson with her blood. Her scarred, beautiful face stared blankly up at the ceiling. Her sword lay beside her forgotten.

"No!" Blackmoure bellowed, causing the windows shake in grief.

Then he saw _it_.

It was hovering slightly off the ground, hunched over something. It was vaguely humanoid in shape with a head and seemed to be wearing a flowing cloak. Blackmoure saw a glowing, delicate hand clasping and unclasping his fingers over a very familiar curly black head.

Snarling, Blackmoure lunged himself at the wraith.

The thing turned and threw Cedric's limp body at him. Automatically, Blackmoure cradled the child close. The wraith laughed before spinning rapidly, becoming smaller and smaller until he was gone.

Blackmoure threw back his head and felt icy blood tears sting his eyes. He bit his lip and howled out in grief. He cradled Cedric to him as he fell to his knees.

A slow, easy sound filled Blackmoure's ears.

It was a soft, repeating beating rhythm beating slowly. Blackmoure's eyes widened as he looked down. Cedric's tiny chest rose and fell with each breath and his heart still beat.

However, those sorrel eyes looked at nothing, empty and blank as glass.


	2. 1: Fair is Foul, and Foul is Fair

**Disclaimer:**_Vampire Hunter D _is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

**Author's Notes: **The concept of the Fey have been around for quite a long time. For as long, perhaps longer, than the legend of the vampire. There are many different legends for the Fey as there are for many types of vampires. I'm fond of the Celtic myth myself, dealing with the Seelie and Unseelie Courts.

Also, I'm writing this fanfiction as how the novels are written. After all, the movies were based upon the novels. Not to mention that the novels give us a bit more information about D's world and how to play with it. Besides, Post-Apocalyptic Western Vampire Hunting is fun!

**Innocent Souls**

**_Chapter One: Fair is Foul, and Foul is Fair_**

**By: Elf**

Cedric wasn't alone. There were other children, just like him, staring up with empty glass eyes like a doll's. They lay as still as corpses in their identical white beds, lined up row by never ending roll in the makeshift hospital created for them in the Blackmoure Castle.

A plump, careworn woman dressed in a shapeless grey gown with a starched white apron and nondescript pale brown hair pulled up into a harsh bun traveled through the maze of children. She sighed as she checked each child. Soft hands gently touched each child, checking pulses, putting hands on cool foreheads, and trying to close unblinking eyes.

The townspeople stood in one side of the massive hallway, lord Blackmoure stood in the other, a tragic, brooding figure. Human mistrusted vampire, and vampire mistrusted human. Their alliance was a tentative one if that. They had one common ground; they wanted their children alive and whole again.

They had one hope, but, as always, the humans were mistrustful of anything they did not understand.

However, Blackmoure knew better. He could hear them whispering in disbelief. He could see their thoughts. He could smell the fear on their bodies. The nurse's hazel eyes flickered towards the vampire and he nodded.

The town's mayor tottered over to him. He had his derby twisted in nervous hands as he looked up at Blackmoure. Blackmoure gave him a steady look as the mayor broke out into a nervous sweat.

The mayor asked, "Why did I let you talk us into hiring this . . . this _dhampire_?"

"For he is the best. I could not best the fiend that did this, so how do you expect a mere human to do so?" Blackmoure retorted coldly.

The mayor flushed and snapped, "Watch yourself _Lord_ Blackmoure. One day I'll see you crucified and set out into the sun to burn."

"Last time you tried that, I ended up with a wife," Blackmoure replied with a tiny hint of a smile.

The mayor sniffed distastefully and snorted, "Yes, who's dead because of you and that dirty half-breed brat of yours. You two should be the ones in the ground, not her."

Blackmoure snarled as he reached for the mayor. The little man tottered back. His crumbled derby fell to the ground.

He never got to touch the pathetic man.

He looked down at the exquisitely curved sword blade gleaming against his throat. He stilled and took a step back. He could smell the newcomer standing behind him, smelling of night air, sunlight, metal, with a hint of something clean and crisp, like peppermints, and underneath all that the sharp, heady tang of death.

"Good evening, your highness," Blackmoure said as he turned around, bowing his head respectfully. "I thank you for coming so quickly."

The mayor gasped behind him. Blackmoure heard the little man's heart racing in terror. It was the only sound in the room other than the soft lullaby of the children's breathing. Then the nurse gasped in something like lustful awe.

Then again, the newcomer had that effect on most women.

"Lord Blackmoure," the newcomer replied, bowing his head. The man's black, large brimmed hat covered most of his face. An opal winked in the hat's darkness, catching the room's dim light. He was tall and slim, even taller than Blackmoure. Thick, wavy black hair cascaded down the man's back only to disappear into the traveler's dark cloak. The newcomer lifted his head and looked around the room.

The mayor shuffled forward and stammered, "We appreciate you coming so quickly, your reputation proceeds you, Vampire Hunter."

"I'm still unclear on why you hired me . . ." the vampire hunter's dark blue eyes flickered towards Blackmoure.

Blackmoure prompted, "Mayor Richmond, may I introduce the vampire hunter known as D."

"Yes, the _dhampire_ hunter," Richmond sniffled distastefully.

D stiffened ever so slightly. The humans in the room wouldn't have noticed the discomfort, but Blackmoure did. Blackmoure's jaw ticked in response. They had no idea who stood in this room, who's son stood here before them. Blackmoure did.

Blackmoure offered, "Maybe the Mayor would like to go back into town while I discuss the problem here?"

The mayor stiffened. D sighed and looked at him, "He can stay. Tell me what happened to the children, Malcolm."

Blackmoure nodded, surprised that D remembered his first name. He began to walk away from the mayor and the town council, motioning for D to come with him. D walked beside him and looked at the children.

Blackmoure started to walk D to where Cedric lay. He said, "It started with a little girl. Her name is Mary and her father is the town apothecary. They went to rouse her in the morning and she looked like this."

He gestured to a tiny girl with coppery curls and a cupid's bow mouth. Her freckles stood out darkly against her pale, translucent skin. Her breathing was faint and her heartbeat was weak. The child didn't have much time left.

D frowned as he leaned over to study the girl. He asked, "Was she ill before hand?"

"No, Mary was a little hellion," Blackmoure replied softly. He reached out to stroke one of those copper curls from the girl's face. "The day before she was up playing, dragging my son off to places fit for no child to venture to."

D turned to look at him. His eyebrows lifted as he asked, "Your _son_?"

"The fifth to be taken," Blackmoure hissed as they approached Cedric's bed.

D walked over to the child. Blackmoure watched as D took in the slightly pointed ears, the snowy skin, and the tiny fangs that poked out of the child's mouth. D whirled back around to glare at Blackmoure. Blackmoure stood silently, waiting for the accusations that would come flying.

After all, D was his father's son.

It was just that even D's father, with all of his power, had been overthrown for the most part. He lost control of his decadent subjects. Except D did not want the kingdom that was his birthright on his father's side. No, he wanted to protect those on his mother's side and keep history from repeating itself.

Blackmoure did not blame him one bit.

Blackmoure looked at Cedric, sweet curious Cedric who looked so much like his mother it hurt. He closed his eyes and clinched his fists. "Cedric's mother was a vampire hunter hired by the village to kill me. I fell for her as soon as she entered my castle, bold as she pleased armed with only a sword and a cross. Some higher power must have been on my side that day for she loved me in return. Cedric was our blessing," Blackmoure murmured softly.

"And his mother?" D asked tersely.

Blackmoure bit back tears and answered, "Dead. Dead by the hand of the _fiend_ that did this."

"What did this?" D asked, emotion leaking from his voice once again.

Blackmoure shook his head and answered, "A wraith. It flew through the air, dressed all in black robes. However its hands gleamed like moonlight."

"How did it kill your wife?" D asked quietly.

Blackmoure hissed, "It ripped her apart. That's how. And there was nothing I could do to stop it! There were these _creatures_! A legion of them, with leathery wings and fangs and claws and skin like stone."

D looked at Blackmoure with those dark blue eyes. Eyes that were infinitely sad and alone, showing the burden that D carried. Hated, feared and ever alone, destined to walk between two worlds but to belong to none. Blackmoure was going to do all he could to spare Cedric of that fate.

D stated, "I need a moment alone to look at the children. Tell the Mayor that I accept his offer."

"If you need any help, anything, a place to stay, whatever, ask me and it will be yours," Blackmoure replied as he bowed his head. With one last look at the hunter, he walked back to the idiot mayor. For Cedric and Mary's sake, Blackmoure would slither on hot coals in the sunlight if it would have saved them.

"At least Blackmoure isn't eating the peasants, but this is really bugging you, isn't it D?" the tiny demon that lived within the palm of D's left hand asked snidely as Blackmoure walked away.

D quietly chided, "They are children. Shut up and tell me what you can."

He held his hand over Cedric's face. The boy looked so innocent and delicate. Blackmoure said that the child had a friend. Did the girl not care what she had befriended, or maybe she did not care what others thought about those she kept company with.

D asked his Left Hand, "What do you sense?"

"God, you're a slave driver," the demon grunted as D moved his hand across the child's body. He moved it around and ended it over the boy's forehead. Suddenly, his hand grew tense and was trembling.

D asked, "What is it?"

"The boy. He doesn't have his soul. It's been sucked right out of him," Left Hand gasped.

D frowned and asked, "How is it possible?" No vampire had access to such power. However, D knew of other creatures that might be able to pull of the feat. Some demons and some wizards could. It didn't matter. D would take care of it no matter what it was for the sake of the _dhampire _child.

"I don't know. D, you need to find a witch or something that can tell you more than I can. I just know someone took the kid's soul and ran off with it. If they ate it or whatever . . ." Left Hand drew off with a grunt.

D sighed and looked around. He said, "First we must see if the other children are missing their souls as well."

"Their souls missing! That's preposterous!" Mayor Richmond snorted.

Blackmoure frowned and mused, "It matches their symptoms . . . But the creatures that detained me . . ."

D looked at the human mayor and said, "It does seem impossible, but it can happen. Are there any other children left in the village?"

Richmond shrugged and answered, "I don't know. I don't keep up with who's breeding in town or not."

"Your carelessness is the reason this has happened in the first place!" Blackmoure shouted and bared his fangs at the human.

Richmond hissed, "We should have gotten rid of you a long time ago! You filthy blood drinking fiend. You're the reason why we were attacked, harboring a creature of darkness for so long without temperance!"

"I've protected your village before you were born, boy. Shut the hell up or I'll show you what a blood sucking fiend I can be!" Blackmoure snarled, his eyes starting to glow crimson.

D stepped between the two men and stated, "If you do not know, find out. The wraith will attack the next child."

"We brought you in here, you're not giving orders," Richmond sniffled with distaste, "We hired you. You do what _we_ allow you to do and when you have finished your job, you will leave."

"Annoying little asshole, isn't he? Why don't you just pick the little fucker up and throw him across the room, D? Blackmoure wouldn't mind," Left Hand whispered softly to him.

D curled his fingers over his palm in a tight fist.

D stood to his full height and towered over the human. He glared down and stated, "I need you to find out if there are any more children in the village so I can do what you hired me for. If you do not wish me to do that, I'll leave and the children can die within the next few days. If you do not want that to happen, I need your cooperation in this."

The little man fell silent. D turned sharply on his heel and headed for the exit of Blackmoure's study. Blackmoure stood silently, hidden in the shadows and away from Richmond while the human stood in the light flickering from the fireplace.

D left the two men there. How they would find out the information was not his problem. He knew Blackmoure would be good for it. Blackmoure was how the Nobles should be: kind, helping the humans, and protecting them. To save the children, especially his own son, Blackmoure would do anything. That much was obvious.

D headed through the castle back to the great hall. Moonlight filled the room, casting the children in a ghostly glow. However there was something not right, something that didn't belong. A new heart beat and a new scent: female, rich with lavender.

He looked towards Cedric's bed. Crouched beside him was a slim, feminine figure dressed all in black. She drew herself tighter and into the bed's shadow to draw herself away from D's vision. Then, she suddenly vanished from his view, but he could still smell her.

"D, left hand corner, crouched beside the _dhampire_ kid," Left Hand whispered as D reached behind him to draw his sword.

D replied softly, "I see her."

D started to walk over to Cedric's bed. He called out, "Come out. I know you're here. Make it easier on your self and stand up."

The girl stood up and ran towards the huge windows. D took chase. As he ran he drew his sword. He jumped up over the children's beds and towards the intruder. He swung his sword at her.

She spun out of the way, graceful and fluid as water. He struck at her again. This time she reached behind her and drew a weapon. His sword was met with a battle axe.

He stared into the intruder's face. It was covered with black cloth, only revealing eyes that were neither blue nor violet, but a dark shade in between. _Indigo, _he thought oddly as they drew back from another. He swept his sword up and took a stance. She stepped back and started to spin her axe.

"You should have shown yourself," D stated softly.

The woman replied in a husky, lilting voice, "I like making things difficult, but you're the one attacking with the great big sword."

"And you're the one sneaking around defenseless children," D accused.

The woman shrugged and retorted, "I have my reasons, but right now, you're holding me up."

Suddenly, she sprang at him. D parried her blow away. He drew his sword back and swung it down. She jumped out of its way and caused the blow to hit the ground. While D swung his blade back up, she started to run past him.

He lashed out his leg towards her feet and swept them underneath of her. She fell down with a sharp curse. D knelt before her and grabbed the long cloth covering her face. He yanked it away and the woman glared at him.

Long strands of golden hair fell from the braid keeping the rest of it back. Those indigo eyes glared at him as she scowled. She had fine, elegant features with high cheek bones, an Aristocratic nose, and a mouth where the lower lip was plumper and fuller than the top.

"Bastard," she hissed as she threw a punch at him.

D blocked it as she flipped up to her feet. He rose to his feet as well and took a step back. He looked her over. She was tall, slim with long legs and deceptive strength. She looked him over as well. He waited for the usual appreciative look that women gave him.

In fact, oddly enough, part of him wanted it from this young woman.

It never came.

"D, she's got a glamor over her," Left Hand warned softly.

D frowned at the blonde. She smirked at him. He took a stance. She threw a snap kick to his chin.

His head was whipped back. His hat fell off of his head and drifted to the floor. He winched as he regained his composure. She threw a punch at him. He deflected the blow with the heel of his left hand, earning a complaint from his demonic parasite, pushed it down and to the side, and grabbed her left hand as it came up to strike at him.

She glared up at him and he looked down at her. He moved to bring his Left Hand up to devour the glamor that was shielding her. Left Hand snickered, "Let's see if she's a hag underneath that illusion. She could have given herself bigger tits though."

"They can be a distraction in battle," the blonde retorted before she drove her heel down into the toe of D's boots. D winched but didn't let her go. If anything, he was surprised that she even heard the parasite.

D looked down at her and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I wasn't going to hurt them. Children are precious," the blonde spat, glaring up at D and struggling madly.

D repeated his question. "Why are you here?"

"Bloody hell, let me go or I'll _make _you let me go," she threatened.

Not bothered by her threat, he bent closer to her. Indigo eyes glared up at him and her pale cheeks were flushed. He had her overpowered and immobile. She went completely still and limp. D sighed and thought that she was beginning to cooperate because he actually did not want to harm her.

Until she drove her knee up into his groin and slammed her forehead into his nose.

Despite the fact he wore body armor he felt _that_ blow. Pain blossomed, his vision blurred as he was rendered completely helpless. He gagged and sank to his knees.

"I told you that you should have let me go," the blonde drawled before turning on her heel.

He watched as she ran to the huge French Windows of the hall. He resisted cupping the injured part of his anatomy as he rose to his feet. "Damn it D, that was one _nasty _blow," Left Hand chuckled. He closed his fingers over his palm and took off after her.

To stop her from any other retaliation, he dove at her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tackled her to the ground. They landed hard and skidded on the polished hardwood floor until they hit the wall. He grabbed her wrists with his right hand and pinned her legs with his own to keep her from kicking him. She wasn't a vampire so biting wasn't going to be a problem. She bucked underneath him, writhing and struggling helplessly.

D pressed his weight into her and stated, "Stop that."

She shook her head and closed her eyes. She hissed, "No."

She arched against him again, the sleek lines of her body pressing against his. He was suddenly aware that she was warm, breathing, and wiggling beneath him. Locks of golden hair had come free of her braid, splaying out around her head. She smelled like lavender and . . . D paused, looking down at her.

She didn't smell human, but she was alive and didn't have the tale tell fangs of an other _dhampire. _She didn't smell of sweat, skin, nor the sweet coppery tang that all humans had. The same scent that tempted D within close proximity, as Doris had. No, she smelled like lavender and that particular smell the air had right before a heavy thunderstorm.

D lifted his Left Hand to her and told it, "Destroy her glamor."

Her eyes opened as she looked at the demon in his palm. Instead of screaming in terror as most would have, she just blinked up at it curiously. It started to suck the magic disguise from her. He felt it in his wrist, pulling his arm as he heard something pop audibly.

"Holy shit," Left Hand gasped.

The blonde was now glowing, as if moonlight suddenly ruptured under her skin. Her hair gleamed like sunlight and her lips looked as if they were carved of rubies. However, it was her eyes that gave D pause.

Around the pupil there was a brilliant violet ring while the rest of the eye was indigo. They were glowing like fire as she glared up at him. However, the pupil wasn't round like it should have been, nor was it elliptical like a snake's or a vampire's while the blood lust was thick upon them; it was oval shaped within the indigo and violet fire of her eyes.

And her ears were now long and pointed, poking out of her hair.

"Faerie," D managed as he looked down at her.

She glared at him, looking hurt and vulnerable as if he had suddenly stripped her nude. D supposed that he had in away and swallowed. _It's not a time to be shameful, _he amended as he looked at her.

Then she opened her mouth and screamed.

D was thrown back into the air. His ears were ringing with pain as he fell backwards. He hit the ground hard as the glowing faerie stood up. She scowled at him and brushed her black trousers off. Behind her the windows had cracks all through them, as did all the windows around the room.

"Lord and Lady, see what you made me do!" she snapped as she gestured at the cracked windows.

D shook off the ringing in his ears and retorted, "I didn't make you do anything. You panicked and did this."

"Well, sorry if you were on top of me with your little parasite that can devour magic and pinning me to the ground!" she shouted at him as she placed her hands on her hips.

When she put it that way, D blinked. He replied, "You were with the children, what would you have lead me to believe?"

"That she's a soul sucking faerie that must be destroyed before she hurts anyone else," Mayor Richmond said from behind her.

D spun around to see Blackmoure looking bewildered and confused while ten men, all large in stature and roughened, stood at the doorway with the little man. Half of the men held heavy chains in their hands. Even though D wasn't that familiar with the Fey, he did know that iron could bind and kill one.

"I was trying to see what did this, you little pillock!" the blonde snapped as she flicked some of her hair from her face with a haughty gesture.

Richmond smirked and purred, "And you tried to seduce our hired hunter with your feminine wiles. While that might work on a half breed, it won't work on me or my men, you little strumpet."

"I don't like that little troll," Left Hand whispered to D, "He doesn't feel right. Doesn't feel human, but . . . I can't tell what the hell he is unless I get closer. Which means I have to get closer and there are just some things I won't do."

D nodded in agreement. He saw his hat lying at his feet. He bent to retrieve it, taking the moment to reply to his parasite, "I don't trust him."

"Besides, looks like he's gonna kill your new girlfriend," Left Hand drawled as the men started to approach the faerie. D watched as she stood to her full height, almost equal to the men, and smirked. She stood simply, loosely, deceptively still, but D knew she could fly into action in a moment's notice.

Blackmoure walked over to D and whispered into his mind, _I don't think she is the one responsible. But there is another child in the village, sickly and frail. I can hide him without the little toad knowing._

_Do it. I'll see to her, _was what D said in reply as one of the men hit the ground hard. She flipped back from another one's clumsy hands and lunged to kick his feet out from under him. Blackmoure blinked in surprise, probably caught in some memory of his lost wife, before swiftly and quietly leaving the room.

D watched in disgust as they took the faerie down. To her credit, without using any more magic she took down all but one. One lay on the ground coughing and clutching his groin, another lay sprawled out like a broken doll with his neck snapped, two were nursing broken arms, three were moaning unconscious, one was slithering on the ground with both of his knees broken, and the last one she had taken out had his face beat into a broken mess. However, it was the uninjured one who had wrapped her up with the iron chains and shackled her hands and feet.

The nurse rushed into the room and screamed. D moved to the side as the last man slapped the faerie. She was rapidly losing her glow, returning to what she appeared to be when D first had met her, save for the pointed ears.

Richmond and his flunky drug the struggling faerie out of the great hall. As they passed D, Richmond looked up at him with his beady black eyes. He smugly told D, "We're finished with you now. Didn't even need you at all. You can go."

The faerie looked at D with watery indigo eyes as they drug her away.

The nurse walked over to him and spat, "Do you know who they have?"

"No," D answered, shaking his head, "But I do know she's innocent."

The nurse stomped her foot and demanded, "Then why aren't you helping her?"

"Because I think the mayor is up to something," D replied softly as he turned to look at her. "But who is she?"

The nurse answered, "She was also sent to stop whatever was hurting the children, that's all I can tell you."


	3. 2: Blood of the Morrigan's Grace

**Disclaimer:**_Vampire Hunter D _is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

**Innocent Souls**

**_Chapter Two: Blood of the Morrigan's Grace_**

**By: Elf**

Bronach twisted fruitlessly in her bonds. She felt cold and empty. It was as if someone kept trailing ice up and down her spine while leering at her. She was beginning to feel dizzy and weak as well. Her wrists itched madly under the iron manacles.

Mayor Richmond walked up to her. He smiled as he lifted a surprisingly long fingered hand towards her and fingered a lock of her hair. She jerked her head away in repulsion.

"Get your hands off of me, you sodding wanker," Bronach spat.

Richmond chuckled and started to pace his office. She was bound to the wall onto a steel ring. Not that it mattered anyway, with the iron she was stuck there. She looked around at the windows, the fire in the fireplace and the freshly bloomed flowers sitting in a crystal vase on his immaculate desk.

Richmond drawled in his raspy voice, "You didn't seem to mind it too much when that _dhampire _was on top of you."

"Well, he's a fair shade better looking than you and smells better," Bronach retorted as she tossed her hair away from her face. She snorted as she looked around the office. She taunted, "I bet you really hate it here. It's so clean and well lit. I bet your eyes are burning now. It must be really tiresome to be tied to your master, whoever he is."

Richmond smiled, revealing fangs on both the top and bottom of his mouth. He locked the door and the little man began to shed his clothing, starting with his derby. He was surprisingly well muscled for such a little man, but Bronach knew that he wasn't a man. He stood before her nude and proud before taking off the last article on his person: a delicate silver ring.

The ring dropped to the floor and the little man was gone.

Richmond was wearing his true skin now, that from one of the goblin gentry. His skin was a greenish-grey, his ears were upswept and wide like a bat's. He had tiny, shining brown horns on top of his head. His fingers ended in long claws that curved slightly. His bovine like nose had a thick gold ring through the nostrils. His lip curled up to show off his mighty teeth. His now lemon yellow eyes leered up at her as his genitalia reacted to the lust for faerie flesh.

She thought of the _dhampire _she fought in Blackmoure's castle. Despite the fact he had pinned her to the ground, he had been very gentlemanly about it. She should have left the castle sooner, but Blackmoure's son begged for her inspection. With a soul so powerful, how could it have been grabbed she had reasoned. Then _he_ had shown up, perhaps one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen.

Except he wasn't vain. He was a warrior, honest honorable and true. And the Nancy had beaten her.

"Virgin," he said appraisingly as he sniffed her. He reached up and grabbed her chin. Bronach forced herself to look bored, as if a goblin wasn't checking her out like a horse at an auction. He pulled her face down to look at him.

Her nose curled as she smelled the stench of decay and rotting meat that goblins carried as well as the hint of earth. He trailed a claw under her eyes. Her body tensed. He took that hand to twist a lock of her blonde hair between his fingers.

He grinned as he mused, "Unseelie eyes, but Seelie coloring. Ah, you're a court bastard child. What were the rumors? Yes, your father was one of the sons of the Queen of Darkness and Fire and your mother was one of the handmaidens of Princess Alena from the Seelie Court."

"I can still kick your ass even if you have me chained up," Bronach hissed.

He chuckled as he leered at her. His clawed finger tips began to slice through her shirt. He purred, "Go ahead and fight me, dear, it'll make taking you all the sweeter." He then leaned forward and licked her throat.

Bronach stiffened and shuddered in revolution as the wet muscle lathered at her throat. She drew her shackled legs to her body and kicked out. The goblin cried out as he stumbled back. Bronach grabbed the chains and yanked herself up with all of her might. She spread her legs as wide as she could, arched her back, and swung towards the goblin. He yelped as she ensnared his neck between her legs.

She drew him closer to her knees and placed her knees at opposite angles on his neck. She then squeezed her legs together. Richmond choked and flailed his arms. His eyeballs bulged in his head as she wrung him tighter and harder.

"Funny thing about goblins," Bronach grunted, "You're immortal, but rather easy to kill. See, I can snap your neck like a twig, or I can squeeze your worthless neck until your eyes bulge out of your head and your breath is wrung from your lungs."

Richmond choked and flailed wildly. He struck his claws against her legs. Bronach gritted her teeth, hissed in pain, and squeezed even tighter as his claws slashed at her thighs, knees and calves. Her blood splattered his hands and the floor, but she continued to squeeze.

All the lights in the room suddenly flickered out, bathing them in complete darkness. Bronach jerked her head up and looked around. The light even bled out from the windows and the room's temperature dropped drastically.

Distracted, her legs weren't squeezing Richmond as before. The goblin turned his head and bit her hard in the thigh. Bronach screamed instinctively, but the iron kept the magical destructive power out of her voice. Pain welled up in her thigh as Richmond tore out a huge hunk of meat. Her eyes watered, her vision blurred, and she let go of her chains and fell back to the ground.

Richmond departed from her. She felt hot blood pouring out of the bite as she listened to him chewing and swallowing. She didn't see the goblin lash out and hit her across her cheek. The blow sent her reeling.

"Richmond, what the hell is going on here?" a whispering voice asked from the darkness, as thick and soft as velvet. Bronach cringed and tried to draw herself up to her feet. Her thigh gave out on her, sending her kneeling on the ground.

Richmond answered, "My Lord, they sent this bitch after you."

Even though she couldn't see them, Bronach felt eyes flicker over her. A glowing pale hand appeared from the darkness. The light was enough for her to see Richmond and a cloaked figure. Despite being bound in iron, she instinctively recognized a high court faerie's power right in front of her.

The hand lifted up her chin and she obediently let her face to be turned so the other faerie could inspect it. He let her go and trailed his hand down her throat, into her shirt. She stiffened and hissed like an angry cat as he found the pendent she wore under neath her clothing. He slid his fingers to find the clasp for the chain and brought up the pendent for his inspection.

The silver gleamed in the pale glow of his hand. The pendent was of a crow that was studded with countless cut black tourmalines and had eyes made out of dark red garnets. The crow held a triangle cut iolite within its beak.

"Well, well, they sent the Morrigan's Grace after me. Hello, Bronach," the faerie purred to her.

Bronach drew saliva up and spat viciously at him. "_Fuck off_, traitor!"

"Is that an invitation, my sweet? For if it is, it would be one I would gladly accept. Not only would I ascend every faerie born with my powers, but I would be the one to take the Morrigan's Grace's virtue from her," the faerie replied, bending his shrouded head towards her. He touched the bite on her thigh and she bit her lip. He lifted his hand up to her. The blood was glowing like jewels from his hand. He bent his head and licked his hand clean.

"There's another sort of blood that I would lick from those white thighs," he whispered to her.

Bronach glared at him, but bit the harsh retort on her tongue. Instead she asked, "Why are you taking children's souls?"

"Why to ascend, my sweet. I'm going to use the power of their innocence to become something that neither Court has even dreamed of. I am going to reclaim the power of the Wild Hunt and head it as its Herne. I'm going to release the Wildness back into the world, reclaim it for the Fey as it should have been, instead of these blood sucking fiends and pathetic little humans! I will be a God, and the Fey shall rule as they rightly should," he proclaimed.

Bronach snorted, "Yes, and worship you, right?"

"Of course, my sweet, but first I need the souls of fifty children," he mused.

Bronach's eyes widened and her heart seemed to skip a beat. She gasped, "_Fifty_?"

"Aye. Then on the night where Ghosts run free and demons are put at bay, the children shall die and their souls given to empower the Wildness and set it loose upon the world. The faerie will regain lost powers and I will become the most powerful of them all," he chuckled.

Bronach shook her head. She was feeling weak and dizzy. The iron was keeping her from healing and she was losing blood. Not that it would kill her, but if she slipped into a coma, she couldn't save the children of this village or stop this mad Unseelie Faerie from his quest.

She spat, "You are _bloody_ insane."

"There is one more soul to collect from this village. That puts the count at nineteen, but there is a bigger town not even a thousand kilometers from here with even more children. And on the night of question, May 1st, my disciples will kill the children's bodies to complete the ritual. That is why Richmond is here," the Unseelie Faerie continued.

Bronach drawled, "Of course, like all delusional pillocks you have to tell me of your plans. Makes it much easier for me to stop you, of course."

"My sweet, you're not in a position to threaten me. However, you can join me. I know of you, sweeting. I know of your reputation. You have killed countless more powerful than you. On the battlefield you are almost unstoppable. Join me and you can over throw your patron goddess and take her place and be worshiped. After all, a dark God like myself needs a lovely Goddess . . ." He drew off with a gargling choking sound.

The darkness was sucked from the room. Moonlight streamed in from the windows again. The temperature returned to normal for the most part. The faerie bent forward, his shroud brushing against her. Another hand came out to brace himself to keep from falling. Her pendent fell from his hand and into her lap.

She blinked up at the startlingly familiar almost delicately curved blade that stuck out of the faerie's body. She looked up to see the armored hunter she had been beaten by just a short time ago. His hat covered most of his face, but the line of that wonderfully carved mouth was grim. He then stepped back and jerked his sword out of the faerie's body.

The Hunter hissed, "The souls of the children. Where are you keeping them?"

Bronach blinked, for a mere vampire hunter he knew a lot about magic. Then again, the demon trapped in his palm was probably a large part of that knowledge. Not to mention a great asset when fighting magical beings.

The Unseelie Faerie dropped to his knees. He looked up at Bronach and Bronach blinked as she looked at his face. Yes, he was lovely, but it was in the faerie's inherit nature to be beautiful beyond comparison. He had skin like moonstone, fine boned features, a wide, sulky pouting mouth, and long black hair that did not reflect any of the light, instead it seemed to draw it in and destroy it.

He had true Unseelie eyes, three rings of color starting from the elliptical pupil and the rest of the iris. The ring around the pupil was a shimmering lavender, the second ring a bright violet, and the last ring a rich purple. Bronach watched as he laughed, his whole body shaking with mirth. Then he rose to his feet and turned around to face the Hunter.

"You filthy dirty blooded freak," the faerie spat.

The Hunter simply shook the Unseelie's blood off of his sword and gave him an impassive look. Yet, a muscle in his jaw tensed and his mouth tightened. Bronach pressed her lips together and watched helplessly.

The Hunter stated, "At least I'm not on some Fool's Errand and killing innocent children."

The Unseelie threw back his head and laughed. The Hunter drew up his sword and struck at the faerie. Bronach watched as the Unseelie faded into his own shadow, leaving nothing of him behind.

Her eyes narrowed as her mind raced. He was a Dark Faerie then, with control over shadows and darkness. He could travel anywhere by going through shadows and the dimensions they contained. She thought of all the Dark Faeries in the Unseelie Court, listing their names in her mind but they were all coming up short.

The Hunter pivoted on his foot. He looked around him quickly, searching for the faerie. Richmond snarled and launched himself at the Hunter with his claws flying and teeth flashing.

The Hunter spun to face Richmond, put his arm up, and deflected the goblin by whirling in the opposite direction. The goblin went flying. Bronach smiled with satisfaction as Richmond was thrown into his desk.

Then she noticed the faerie's head poking out of the Hunter's cloak's shadow. One pale hand reached out to grab the Hunter's ankle. Bronach cried out, "Your cloak! He's in your cloak!"

The Hunter swiftly stripped his cloak off. He threw it away from him, causing the faerie to tumble onto the ground. The faerie rolled up to his feet, but the Hunter lashed out with his sword again. The faerie hissed as the sword nicked his pale face. Ruby like droplets trickled down the clean cut.

The faerie pulled his hood over his head with a chuckle. He once again appeared the formless wraith with the glowing hands. He slid into his own shadow. Bronach saw him reappear at the desk. The Hunter spun around to attack, but the faerie grabbed Richmond and vanished into the shadows.

"What on earth?" the Hunter asked quietly. He turned to look at Bronach and she shrugged.

She answered, "That, Hunter, was an Unseelie Faerie with delusions of grandeur and an annoying little pillock."

The Hunter approached her and looked her over. He knelt in front of her and looked down at the wounds on her legs. His nostrils flared and she heard his breath catch as he looked at the bite. He reached his right hand out to lightly graze above the bite, not quite touching the bloody mess.

Bronach's breath caught at that moment, but it wasn't from pain. Her heart fluttered as he gently inspected the wound. He softly said, "We need to get this tended too. You've lost quite a bit of blood."

"Not that massive blood loss could kill me, the sodding bite hurts like hell," Bronach retorted, surprised about how breathy her voice sounded even to her. She tried again, making her voice light, "Not to mention the bloody iron that's making me itch and rendering me helpless."

He looked up at her face and she finally saw his whole face. _He has lovely eyes_, she thought idly as he looked at her. They were long lashed and dark blue, like the night sky. He blinked up at her and reached into his belt. He pulled out some lock picking tools and began to pick the shackles holding her wrists together.

Which, of course, put them rather close. She swallowed again as he methodically picked the lock. She looked for something to distract her from gazing at him. Despite being faerie herself, he was one of the most beautiful men she'd seen. And one of the most unusual.

So she looked at the large sapphire amulet he was wearing. Even bound by iron, she could sense that it was magical. Indeed, there was more to this hunter than met the eye.

She asked, "That's an unusual bobble around your neck. You're not a normal hunter, are you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly, looking down at her.

She shrugged and he glared at her. He stated, "If you held still, I would have you out faster."

"Sorry, but you're different. Most hunters only know about what they hunt, you seem to be a wee bit more multipurpose," Bronach replied.

He was silent as he continued to work. So, Bronach continued to talk, "You're not an ordinary _dhampire_, if there is such a thing. And you bested me, which is a feat into itself. So, lets see if I can guess who you are. Experienced hunter, very talented to have stopped a faerie, powerful, with knowledge of the arcane. You're not D, are you?"

"I am," he replied as the lock clicked. He sprung it and opened the shackles. Bronach rubbed her red, raw, irritated wrists. He moved to her feet and started to work on them. He asked, "And you are?"

Bronach grinned and replied, "I'm Bronach, the Morrigan's Grace."

"I've heard of you, even though the Fey do not intermingle with the vampires and humans like they did once long ago. You doll out executions to rogue Fey of both courts," D said as he sprung that lock.

Bronach grabbed her pendent from her lap and put it back on. She hid it under her shirt once again and stood up. Or rather, tried to stand up.

Her thigh protested and sent a sharp, searing pain as the muscle buckled. She cried out as she fell. D reached out and caught her. He told her, "Easy, you're injured." He stood up and lifted her into his arms.

"Well, I was trying to crush his throat between my legs so he bit me," Bronach replied with a devil-may-care shrug.

D's eyes widened as he asked, "You tried to . . ."

"Choke him with my legs," Bronach filled in brightly.

D blinked as he started to carry her out of Richmond's office. He was silent for a few moments. Then he looked down at her again.

He simply said, "I see."

"The little sod was trying to molest me," Bronach replied grumpily.

That comment made D's lips twitch up in some semblance of a grin. He stated, "That I _do_ understand all too well."

"Ye know I can take of this meself, donna you?"

D looked up at Bronach's face. He quickly learned the more agitated she got, the more her accent thickened into Scottish brogue. Her husky, lilting voice was made for the brogue he reasoned as he continued to sponge off the bite on her thigh.

D was use to vampire bites. Bites that were clean and small, no more than mere puncture wounds. This was something entirely else. It was as if an animal had taken a chunk out of her thigh.

He prodded the gleaming white skin around the bite and Bronach hissed with pain. The glamor broke for a moment and she glowed. He looked up and apologized, "I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault. You didn't take a giant bloody chunk from my bloody thigh," Bronach grimaced as she placed her glamor back again, becoming remarkably normal again.

D studied the wound. The tissues were slowly repairing themselves, not as fast as a vampire healing itself, but remarkable none the less. She had stopped bleeding a long time ago. Yet he could still smell the sweet, coppery tang of blood coming from her ruined slacks. He bent closer to her thigh and frowned at it. From above him, Bronach's breath caught and her heart beat sped up.

He put the sponge down and rinsed his hands off in the water basin the nurse had provided to him. He wished she could have taken care of Bronach's wounds, but she protested, saying she wasn't worthy to touch the faerie and she still had to tend to the children. Despite the fact that their souls were missing, they were still having basic bodily functions and she had to clean each one of them.

Save for Cedric. His father did that. At the moment though, Blackmoure was off protecting the last child of the village.

He dried his hands off and picked up a blue jar filled with ointment. It smelled fresh and green, with a slight hint of lavender. As he dabbed the thick paste on Bronach's thigh, he realized it harmonized with her natural lavender and ozone scent. He also realized that Bronach was reacting to his touch more than in natural pain.

He looked up to find those indigo eyes looking down at him, watching every movement. Her pale cheeks were slightly flushed and her mouth parted open. He took a deep breath, put the ointment down and grabbed the bandages.

Even though he wasn't one for small talk, the silence was too thick for him to bare. Besides, he reasoned, when was the next time he could talk to a real, living faerie? He had questions to ask; most of which would help him stop the Unseelie Faerie.

He asked, "Who are you, Bronach? Really."

"I'm the daughter of a handmaiden of one of the Ladies of the Seelie Court and Prince Edwin of the Unseelie Court. I'm an agent for the Joint Fey Council and one of Prince Kirwin of the Seelie's Royal Guards," Bronach answered with a sigh. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

As D bandaged her leg he asked, "So you're loyal to the Seelie then?"

"Och, hell no. Most of my companions and dearest friends are Unseelie. The Seelie taunt me because I have Unseelie powers and eyes, but if I try to do anything in the Unseelie I would be killed," Bronach answered matter-of-factually.

D frowned and asked, "Why?"

"Because I'm one of Edwin's illegitimate heirs, that's why. I could be a threat to the throne, not that I'd want the bloody thing," Bronach answered with a snort.

D shook his head and asked, "Why do the Seelie taunt you?"

"Because I have Unseelie Taint they say. Doesn't matter, we're all Fey in the long run. The Unseelie just don't have bugs up their arses as much as the Seelie. But the Seelie consider the Unseelie unclean and horrid, but blood runs just as well on white marble as it does black," Bronach snorted.

D frowned at her as he tied the bandage. Bronach tried to stretch her long leg. Instead she winched and grabbed her thigh. "_Cach,_" she hissed as she grimaced in pain.

"You're still injured. Rest," he told her.

Bronach rubbed her temple and sighed. She was quiet, save for the soft sighs of her breathing. He moved back away from her, away from the enticing scent of blood coming from her. Her earlier comment puzzled him.

She looked at him with her indigo eyes, so very human looking with the glamor. Yet, her ears were still pointed. With her pale countenance and inhuman beauty, she could have been mistaken for a Noble. Any Noble would have loved to get his hands on her, he reasoned.

The Fey, the true Fey, not the ones bred by the Nobles to help mold the humans into slaves, were truly Immortal. They were also immune to a vampire's hypnotic power. A vampire could drink and drink from a faerie without worrying about killing them and turning them. Not to mention their blood was rumored to be quite intoxicating.

"The Seelie claim that the Unseelie is cruel and evil, but it's not true, D. Not any less than the Seelie. At least the Unseelie accept all that come into their court, no matter what they are. They don't hide their sins in the dark, in fact they parade them proudly, however, the Seelie only turn a shining countenance to the world," Bronach sighed, "At least the Unseelie don't mock you for having dirty blood or the like."

_What about cursed blood then, Lady of Sorrow? _

Bronach meant "Sorrow" in Gaelic. That much D knew. That and underneath the devil may care facade and sharp tongue, Bronach was almost as alone as he was.

D replied, "But you are still Faerie, pure blood, just from two different courts."

"Light and dark, but I think you get the diatomity," Bronach retorted.

D made sure his expression betrayed nothing. Bronach only grinned and bowed her head to him. She tapped the freshly bandaged wound with a smile. She said, "Still, thanks for helping me."

"You're welcome," he told her.

They faced each other in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable either he realized. She was leaning against the wall, resting, and he was doing the mirror of her actions.

"He needs fifty," Bronach said after a few minutes of the amiable silence.

D looked at her and frowned. "Fifty?" he asked.

She nodded and scowled. Her hands gripped her ruined slacks. "Aye. He's feeding the old magics, trying to awaken things that should stay sleeping."

"What is he planning?" D demanded.

Bronach snorted, "He wants the Wild Hunt to run wild again."

D looked at her in askance. Bronach looked down at her lap and snorted, "He wants the Faerie to reclaim their glory, before the humans, before the vampires. He wants to run with magic again. Wild and free, and to give us our old power back."

"What sort of power?" D pressed.

Bronach shrugged and answered, "It was before my time. I don't sodding know. I'm just a bean faerie. A banshee. My power is my voice."

"I've noticed," D replied dryly.

That won him a grin. "I prefer a more physical approach than the smoke and mirrors shit that wanker uses," she told him.

D stood up and said, "Any hint on how to trace him?"

"Scrying? Drowsing? Its not as if he leaves a physical trail behind. He moves through the shadows, a true Dark Faerie. Not only that he can control them, give them physical form to do things that are best not mentioned, but have heard about through different channels that are quite kinky," Bronach prattled on, her hands swaying back and forth as she became more agitated.

D sighed. This wasn't some vampire he could track down and kill. This was beyond his means. Not to mention, if he succeeded, this Dark Faerie could kill countless humans, and not just the children who's souls he had taken.

He was going to need her help.

He heard a chuckle from his left hand. He automatically closed his fingers over it. Still, its muffled snickers ran through his ears.

"Where do you think he'll strike next?" D prodded.

Bronach sighed, "The next town. Tis much larger, but he wants to get the final child here, the one that Blackmoure's off to protect. And, if I were him, I'd kill Blackmoure."

D scowled as he rose to his feet. He said, "Stay with the children."

She tried to rise as well. She cursed and ended up pushing herself up using the wall and leaning against it. "Like hell I will, D. He's not a vampire, he's a faerie. You cannot hope to fight him!"

D moved towards her and lowered his right hand to her injured thigh. He pressed into the wound. She cried out and slumped forward. She looked up at him and glared. D pushed her back down in a sitting position.

"Bugger," he heard her grunt as he started to head for the door.

The familiar sweet copper smell was all around him. He felt his fangs pulse and beat eagerly in response. He clinched down hard as he ignored the hypnotically erotic pulse that flooded his body.

And he ignored the temptation to lick the honeyed warmth from his fingertips.

**To Be Continued!**

Feed the muse! Leave feedback, please!

The Morrigan is the Celtic Goddess of War and Death. She was represented by three aspects: a Maiden, a Crow, and a woman with a crow's head. She has also been associated with wolves. Interesting fact is that wolves and crows are seen as teachers and warriors in several different cultures.

Both animals are scientifically known for their intelligence. Wolves have the third largest brain mass to body mass volume in the animal kingdom, right after humans and dolphins. Yes, kids, wolves are smarter than chimps. Take that monkeys. And crows are thought to be one of the smartest birds on the planet, perhaps even more so than parrots.

Crows are also death omens, and Odin has two ravens, Memory and Knowledge I believe. So crows are very important to a myriad of cultures.


	4. 3 Black Voices on the Wind

**Disclaimer:**_ Vampire Hunter D _is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

**Innocent Souls**

**_Chapter Three: Black Voices On the Wind_**

**By: Elf**

Blackmoure was ancient. He remembered a time before the great wars. He remembered a time before the first World War. He remembered when humanity was plunged in darkness and superstition. He remembered when magic use to leave its mark upon the world.

Truth to be told, Blackmoure missed those days. The days long before gunpowder, before the rifle, before chemicals obliterated the use of plants to heal. The days long before the vampires rose up from the ashes of human society and used man's forgotten super-science to reshape the world in their image. To breed back the things that had hid themselves from man and the vampires, except this time the vampires made the fairies and pixies like what they read about in stories, not how they truly were. Before the vampire clinched freaks to their breasts to use for their own needs.

What the current Nobles called their Sacred Ancestor, Blackmoure knew personally as a friend and confidant. He even served beside their king in battle. He even tried to stop his dethroning, but was pushed back and kept safe so he could make an example.

Dracula had infinite foresight in that aspect.

Just Blackmoure grew tired of playing at being a saint of darkness. It wore on his soul. Unlike Carmilla and some of the others, Blackmoure couldn't throw himself into darkness and blood. However, unlike his highness, Blackmoure couldn't rule.

So he protected his village the best that he could, despite what that little troll of a mayor said.

His village was one of few on the Frontier that did not boast an asylum for vampire victims. In fact, most vampires were terrified to tread there. Even mutant and lycanthrope garbage refused to enter his village.

Yet, Blackmoure hated technology.

He stared at the surveillance and defense systems around him with distaste. He sneered at the computer screen that offered no reflection of himself. He resisted the urge to pound at the infuriating contraption and rip it to shreds with his hands.

"Lord Blackmoure, what's a matter?" a tiny, thin voice piped up from behind him.

Blackmoure spun around to see the last awake child of his village. Seth Evans was tiny, frail, and had hollow cheeks and large greenish eyes that were too big for his gaunt face. His mousy brown hair stuck up in all directions from his head. His bones could easily be seen under his almost translucent skin. His ribs hitched with each breath before the boy turned his head and coughed.

Seth was a sickly little boy. Blackmoure had done everything in his power to make sure that the boy had lived his first seven years of life. It had been a long struggle, and while the super technology and science had only let Seth live a half life, a nurse who knew of the Old Ways was starting to make Seth thrive. Which was a blessing, for Seth was rumored to be quite brilliant and able to put anything together or make it work.

Blackmoure bent down and asked, "Can you make this infernal contraption work, Seth?"

A wide, toothy grin spread across Seth's gaunt features as his head bobbed up and down eagerly. The boy took off to the massive control panel and studied it. Blackmoure stood up and backed away from the child. Within moments of observation, the little boy was almost dancing around the apparatus as it hummed to life.

"Cedric knows how to make it work, Mr. Blackmoure, I showed him how," Seth told him with a puzzled frown, "Why didn't you bring Cedric, Mr. Blackmoure?"

While Seth knew about how things worked, including science and technology that most humans couldn't comprehend now, he knew little of the world's workings outside of his sterile environment. Blackmoure doubted if the boy knew what was happening to the children around him. It wasn't as if the other children played with Seth, in fact, he was even more of an anemia than his own son. Blackmoure made sure that Seth had at least Cedric of his own age to talk to.

Now Blackmoure had to tell his son's other best friend that Cedric was . . . _Do not think that Malcolm. Moira would have my head if I thought our son was going to die. No, Cedric will live, even if I have to die for him to do so. That bastard will be stopped, no matter what. Even if I have to walk up to Satan and bargain to do so._

"Cedric has been hurt by a terrible monster," Blackmoure explained with a sigh, "As were the other children of the village."

Seth's green eyes brightened as he proclaimed, "No way! Moira could've stopped it! Moira can whip anything!" In his excitement, the small child began to cough and hack furiously. His whole body shook as he struggled for air. Blackmoure lifted the child up and placed him in a chair.

Lights began to flicker on all around them in the stronghold, bright enough to make Blackmoure shield his eyes. Electrical humming filled his ears and rippled all around them. Defense mechanisms roared to life with the sharp shrill of a siren's cry. The stronghold shelter had armed itself. Blackmoure figured if it could protect a sleeping vampire during the day, then it could protect an awake vampire and a sick child.

Seth began to rasp and wheeze. His little hands fluttered helplessly as he looked at Blackmoure with fear filled eyes. Blackmoure stared intently in the boy's eyes and searched his mind. He focused and concentrated. Seth stilled. His breathing became easy as Blackmoure's trance took effect.

"I'm sorry, son," Blackmoure sighed as he smoothed Seth's wild hair down.

He sat in the room's other chair and sighed. He watched each screen idly. All around him was the country side. Nothing unusual to account for except for the humming from the climate generators at the far edges of town as they shut themselves down for the night.

A loud popping sound filled the room. Everything went still before the air seemed to ripple. The control panel shot sparks and wheezed. The machinery lurched into death throws before everything went dark and quiet save for the tiny rattle in Seth's breathing.

Blackmoure rose to his feet as unnatural darkness seeped into the room. He lifted up Seth. The boy's eyes opened as Blackmoure broke the trance. He clutched onto the vampire's cape and Blackmoure started to slowly move towards the door.

Blackmoure felt a solid presence behind him. He felt hands rest on his shoulders. Ozone and juniper filled his nostrils, and power crackled behind the inky darkness around him.

"Well, my lord, it's the end of the line," a velvet voice purred into his ear as moonlight hands reached for Seth.

Seth froze with terror. His heart was like a caged bird fluttering to escape, pounding rapidly in his chest as his breath hitched. He opened his mouth and screamed.

Blackmoure spun around and kicked out at the figure behind him. The wraith laughed and stood up right. Blackmoure's eyes widened at the terrible beauty of the thing in front of him. The tri-ringed violet eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Bastard!" Blackmoure roared as he swiped at the wraith with a clawed hand. The wraith laughed and danced back from Blackmoure's razor talons. Blackmoure bared his fangs and snarled as he attacked again.

The wraith smiled a beautiful chilling smile and waggled his finger disapprovingly at Blackmoure. "Now, now, Malcolm, be good."

"Go to hell, you bastard!" Blackmoure hissed as he put Seth down so he could better rip the wraith's head off. _I'm going to rip out that heart from that pale chest. I'm going to eat it in front of him while he still has life in his body. I want him to see it._

Blackmoure took to the air to fly at the wraith again, but out of the inky darkness rose spiraling tendrils. They whipped towards Blackmoure in a frighteningly fast array. He dodged and wove, but there were too many of them. They wrapped around his waist, his wrists, his elbows, his knees, ankles, shoulders, and the bend of his throat. He snarled out as they slammed him back into the control panel.

Sparks shot everywhere when Blackmoure crashed into it. His skin burned and bits of metal sliced and stabbed through him. He roared in pain as he was jerked up and helplessly pinned against the broken machinery.

"Ah, yes, that works just nicely," the wraith chuckled as he turned towards Seth.

The boy's eyes were wide in terror. His heart was beating so fast that Blackmoure couldn't count the heartbeats. He shouted, "Go, Seth, run!"

Instead, the boy fell forward.

Blackmoure screamed as he heard Seth's heart burst. The wraith walked over and looked at the boy. He nudged Seth's still body and his lip curled with distaste.

"Fragile whelp, maybe it's a good thing that his heart burst, don't you agree?" the wraith asked in his velvety voice as he turned those striking eyes towards Blackmoure.

Blackmoure sneered, "Damn you."

"Ah, that's not very polite," the wraith scolded mischievously, still shaking that glowing white finger at the vampire.

The shadow tendrils tightened around Blackmoure. They bit into his skin and were so cold that they burned. He winched at the pain, but he knew the wounds would heal. He waited for his regeneration to kick in.

It didn't.

The tendrils tightened more and more. Blood spilled forth from each place he was bound. It splattered hotly on the ground and formed a crimson pool around Blackmoure's dangling feet.

Blackmoure screamed.

The wraith moved forward, a smile on his seraphic face. His long, black hair seemed to dance and fade in the magical darkness around him. Blackmoure looked at the wraith with glowing crimson eyes as he struggled with all of his might.

"You bastard," Blackmoure managed, "Who are you?"

The wraith clapped his hands together, looking much like an eager child. He rocked back and forth on his heels and giggled. "Well, since you're going to die, I'll tell you," he sang in that velvet voice.

Blackmoure glared and writhed in pain. His garnet eyes focused on the wraith as he continued to smile impishly at the vampire. The tentacle at his throat stopped cutting him while the ones around his arms, legs, and waist continued their assault.

The wraith smiled and said, "I am Ciaran, but not that it matters to you now."

He flicked his hand at Blackmoure and the tentacle sawed and twisted through his throat. The vampire gagged and gasped. Bone made a sickening scratching sound as living shadow cut through it.

Blackmoure's unseeing eyes looked up at Ciaran from their place on the floor.

Ciaran watched impassively as Blackmoure's body started to dissolve into dust, mingling into the vampire's blood on the floor. His nose crinkled at the dead child sprawled out beside the vampire's remains. He nudged the boy's corpse with his boot and his lip curled.

Suddenly, his shadow weaving started to disintegrate all around him. A brilliant blue light filled his vision and he blocked his eyes from it. He felt his magic, his very being, begin to tremble at the sudden power.

It was draining him, leaching the darkness he created away. Something was feeding on his magic and he heard a throaty chuckle from a tinny voice. Ciaran drew shadows around himself to protect himself, becoming the fearful wraith once again. He held out his pale hands to increase the effect.

Except Vampire Hunter D was not impressed by such theatrics.

The _dhampire_had his long sword out and slashed at the shadows. Ciaran glared as he blocked them with his power. He nimbly wove himself into the darkness, becoming part of it, always moving and never still. He moved through the shadows, everything a dark violet blur.

"You killed Blackmoure and the boy!" that soft, unyielding voice accused.

Ciaran laughed and retorted, "The boy died of fright, _Tolltoine_. Blackmoure's arrogance did him in. What about you, _Toll-toine_?"

D's reply was curt and surprising. "_Thalla__ gu Taigh na Galla_."

"Oh, will you send me there?" Ciaran laughed.

D darted forward with the sword. Ciaran slid away into the shadows and brought himself back right behind D. He drew his shadows and gave them form and shape. They lashed out at the vampire hunter like whips.

D spun around, dodged a few of the lashes, and blocked the rest with his sword. He jumped back away from Ciaran and the faerie laughed. He flung his hands down to his sides, closed his eyes and summoned the very Darkness around him.

Ciaran smirked as the brilliant blue glow of that infernal amulet began to dim. In the presence of this much Darkness and faerie magic, such a dampening trinket was useless. D was now cast in the dark blues, violets, and greys that Ciaran saw in when wielding the Darkness.The _dhampire_ looked around, his long lashed eyes narrowing, as he pivoted gracefully on his foot while he searched for the faerie.

He drew the Darkness up and launched it out all at once.

D struggled, truly remarkable, but in the end fruitless. His sword separated one length of the dark ribbons only to be overtaken by three more. Ciaran wrapped the strands around the sword and jerked it out of the hunter's hands. He then intertwined the hunter in thousands of tendrils and lifted him off the ground.

Ciaran met the hunter face to face. He studied each delicate line, the upswept ears, the wide, sensual mouth and the tiny fangs bared at him. He reached out and stroked a lock of wavy black hair behind D's ear.

"Indeed, you are quite comely, I must say," Ciaran mused thoughtfully, "A beauty even among my kind."

D glared silently at him. Ciaran shrugged as he honed the shadowy ribbons into razor sharp blades to render the lovely hunter apart just as he had Blackmoure. There was a cracking sound as the ribbons began to cut into D's onyx like armor. Ciaran watched with a tiny smile.

"Your fondness for those who mock and punish you has led you to your downfall," Ciaran taunted with a tiny smile, bending forward so his glowing eyes met D's. He made sure to cut the tendrils in deeper.The cracking grew louder and D grimaced, showing a bit of a fang.

Ciaran turned with a flounce of his cloak. "Go ahead and show me those fangs of yours, hunter. Give in before you die. It would be vastly amusing," he chuckled.

"Amuse this, dipshit," the tinny, nasal voice he had heard from before taunted.

Ciaran felt the shadows and Darkness being ripped apart. He felt them being ingested and processed for more power. He spun around to see the shadowy bondage snap around D and the hunter landing nimbly on his feet.

Ciaran glared and spat, "How the hell did you manage to do that?"

D leapt for his sword. Ciaran snapped it to his hands using the remaining tendrils. He lifted the beautiful weapon up and inspected it. "You've killed a great many with this. I think I'll keep it as a souvenir. Such as the blood stained sheets on the bed that I'll take Bronach on as well," he scoffed with a smirk.

D snarled at him. His blue eyes shifted into a bright, glowing crimson that eclipsed the pupils and whites as well. Ciaran laughed as he folded himself into the shadows, bringing D's infamous blade with him.

"Tell Bronach that I'll be seeing her soon," he called out, his voice echoing as he left the vampire hunter alone in the room with the ashes of Blackmoure and a child's corpse.

His laughter continued to mock D long after he was gone.

Bronach was looking at the sleeping child. Cedric. His chestnut curls felt like raw silk under her fingertips. She stroked the little boy's head as he lay still as a corpse. She looked at him with a pained expression, noting the tiny fangs protruding from his cupid's bow mouth. Her thumb traced under his lower lip thoughtfully before she settled back down in her chair beside him.

Her leg was a dull throb now. She could stiffly walk on it now, so she ended up with the children again. She'd walked in and seen their bodies anew.

She was going to rip that Unseelie Faerie apart with her own two hands.

"Aren't they pathetic?"

Bronach stood up and spun around. Leaning against the open French window was none other than the culprit himself. He was idly inspecting his hands before he looked at her with his sickly three-ringed violet eyes. A slow, easy grin spread across his pristine, glowing features.

He gestured to the children with his glowing hand. "So fragile. Delicate. Mortal. Fodder actually," he mused thoughtfully.

Bronach tensed as she looked at the little ones. They were prone and helpless. Their families had no defense against the monster who had stolen their most precious gift.

It was hard for Fey to breed. Ladies' cycles were once every decade and the chance that a Lord's seed would take was slim. Despite that, Faeries loved physical pleasure. They reveled in it and sought it at any cost. And if a tryst brought upon a child, even an illegitimate one, then even better.

Another mark against her in both courts was that she'd never taken anyone to bed. In actuality there had been no one she had wanted to form a tryst with. She wasn't going to be part of some political game or just someone to fulfil an addiction.

So she made sure she never developed that particular addiction herself.

Still, that didn't mean she didn't think children weren't precious or that she didn't want one herself. In fact she did, but that was for a much later date. And to see another Faerie do this made her ill and lit rage within her.

She opened her mouth and drew a breath. She braced herself as she prepared to let loose the full destructive quality of her voice. Then the bastard slid his hand into the voluptuous folds of his cloak and pulled out something long and shimmering.

Her eyes widened. Her breath came out in a shuddering gasp. Her heart twisted and she began to tremble. _D. Lord and Lady no . . . No, _she thought as her eyes welled up with hot tears.

"Like my trophy?" he asked thoughtfully as he inspected the blade.

Bronach drew herself up and braced herself. She opened her mouth to scream. The Dark Faerie pointed to the helpless children around her.

Closing her eyes, Bronach fell still.

"That's right. Scream enough and you'll kill them all at the worst, or render them deaf at best," he chuckled as he walked over to her.

She tensed as she felt his cool hands on her shoulders and his warm breath against her ears. There was a delicate flicker of wet warmth against the top of her ear. She trembled. The hands moved from her shoulders to hover over her breasts to rest around her waist.

He pulled her closer and her eyes flew open. She felt him pressed hard and ready against her back. She spun around and launched her leg up in a roundhouse kick.

The blow landed and the Faerie staggered. She landed and thrust out her hand with her fingers curved towards her upthrust palm. The second blow never landed.

She gasped as her feet were yanked apart and her arms outstretched above her head. She looked at the shadows holding her in place and turned to face the Faerie. She glared as he smiled at her.

"You sodding wanker," she spat.

He lifted D's sword in position and traced it's insanely sharp edge against the curve of her bosom. She drew in a breath and arched back away from the blade. She snapped, "If you're gonna kill me, go ahead and do it and stop tossing around!"

He smiled at her. It was the sort of smile that shed rainbows. Insanely beautiful and charming. The sort of smile Lucifer had, she reasoned darkly.

"Why would I want to kill you, Morrigan's Grace? There are better things to do with your sweet body than harm it. You know how _rare_ of a creature you are among our kind?" He purred as he leaned towards her face. She tightened her hands into fists as the sword easily sliced through her blouse. Her nails began to bite into her palms as she seethed at him.

She snapped, "Bloody hell is this about . . . Go toss off in the loo then, you giant pillock! There would be thousands that would be more than willing to shag you senseless. Why the hell do you want me?"

"Because you're unattainable. Because no one else has had you, that's all. You're passing fair, but as far as Faeries go, you're rather homely," the Faerie answered as he turned her face towards him. She snapped her head and twisted it to the side.

He smirked as he leaned towards her. His lips danced around her ear. She bit her lip at the gentle caress. He was going straight for the weak point. Her ears. She shivered and he smiled.

She looked at the children. Then she looked back at her tormentor. She moved her face towards his and he smiled against her cheek. "I knew you wouldn't stay unresponsive for long," he whispered in her ear.

Her lips brushed past his ear. She pressed a kiss into it. He shuddered from head to toe and held onto her tightly. She tensed in loathing and drew a breath.

Then she screamed right into his ear.

He screamed and crumbled to the ground. He held his head as he wailed in pain. The shadows dissipated and dropped Bronach to the ground. She landed in a crouch and took the opportunity to kick the Faerie viciously in the face.

Then she noticed D's sword lying prone on the ground.

Rage welled up within her as she picked up the sword and turned back to the Faerie. She wrenched him up by his hair and kneed him in the throat. "You sodding bastard!" she cried, tears welling in her eyes again.

She back handed him and he fell backwards. He looked up at her and she smiled in grim satisfaction. Blood gleamed like rubies as it trickled from his ears, eyes, nose, and in a tiny stream down his mouth. He coughed and she spun the sword back.

She began to sweep it down for the final blow.

A massive amount of shadow tendrils shout out at her. She tried to dodge. She even cut some with the blade, but there were too many. She even opened her mouth for another scream, but one wrapped around her mouth, silencing her. They held her pinned helpless and spread eagled in the air.

The sword fell to the ground again.

The Faerie wiped blood from his face. He glared at her with gleaming eyes as he took another step towards her. Bronach wiggled, but that only drew the sprigs tighter around her wrists and ankles. She attempted to scream even though the shadow would stop her destructive cry.

"I should leave you like this. What do you think will happen once the lesser creatures find out there is a veritable feast of defenseless children waiting for them? The gluttons would feed, and to find someone such as yourself helpless like this . . ." he drew off, a manic smile gracing his seraphic features.

Bronach glared at him and fought and twisted some more. He touched a lock of her blonde hair thoughtfully. "One lust sated, but the bloodlust leads to something worse. Unfortunately for you, death won't come as swiftly as it will for the children."

Bronach sent her thoughts to the Faerie, launching them like an arrow into his mind, _Blackmoure__ won't allow it. He won't let anything befall his son. So, I hope you enjoy the hell that you choose, you son of a bitch._

_Bronach__, listen to the wind, _he replied, a haunting, static filled voice in her mind. He smiled at her and leaned forward. He sniffed the column of her throat before licking up her cheek to flick his tongue at her ear. She shivered and tensed again, her wrists twisting uselessly in their velvety bonds.

He pressed his mouth to her ear as his hand trailed up and down the curve of her shirt. She scowled as her nipple hardened against the palm of his hand. He idly began to rub the extended nub between his fingertips. Her heart beat quickened and she was breathing hard. Sweat was trickling down her face and back.

She heard something faint in the distance. Whispers on the air. It was enticing, like a banshee's song when she wasn't being destructive. It was promising a feast. That the protector and lord of the manner was dead. She heard it sing of static children that were helpless and unprotected. She discovered it was traveling along the darkness, and that it was specifically looking for creatures that would do such a thing.

Her eyes widened.

The Faerie laughed as he released her breast. He gave her one last kiss on the cheek. She jerked away with a muffled cry and glared at him.

"Enjoy yourself, Bronach. You might even survive the rebirth of the Hunt," he said as he faded into shadows.

Bronach writhed in the static bonds. A howl rang in the distance. She twisted her head to look at the children.

She began to fight even harder.

D was almost standing on his horse. The cyborg's hooves barely touched the ground as it ran. Its long mane brushed past D's face, and he had to bow his head to avoid getting horse hair in his eyes. His grip tightened on the reins and the horse propelled itself forward.

_The weak lord is dead. Helpless lambs await you. Sate your hunger and your thirst. There will be no one to stop you . . ._

Left Hand stirred and said, "They'll hear the whispers. That bastard is telling anything that there's an all you can eat kids buffet at Blackmoure's. Since they think Blackmoure's now dead, they're gonna take him up on that offer."

"I know that," D replied tensely as he spurred his heels into the mechanical horse's sides. The horse flew down the worn path. D kept looking left to right to behind and in front of him again. The whispers grew louder, more tempting, and promising more and more.

Bronach was at the castle, as well as the nurse. Hopefully the nurse would have sense enough to get the children out of the castle. D knew that Bronach would stay behind and face whatever came to feed.

A howl cut through the seductive whisper. It echoed through the mountains and the horse reared. D kept seated as the horse whined and danced backwards on its hind legs. Its glowing eyes were rolling back and forth in their sockets as the mechanical animal's natural instincts took over.

D tightened the reigns and settled the horse back on all floors. The horse's nostrils flared as it darted uneasily back and forth. He reached down and patted the horse's flanks reassuringly, yet the creature still panicked.

A longer howl sounded, and it was followed by a whole chorus of howls. D's ears twitched at the sound as he looked around. It wasn't a full moon, but D knew better than to trust that particular myth about lycanthropes.

He clicked his heels together and tugged at the reigns. The horse whinnied again before taking off like a bolt. It soared down the road at a frantic pace, thinking with the instincts that man couldn't replace with its technology. D simply leaned forward, making himself more aerodynamic so the horse could run faster.

The horse was fast, but D had a feeling it wouldn't be fast enough.

He looked up to see Blackmoure's castle looming towards him. He urged the horse faster. He just hoped that the horse didn't hear the gentle panting of running wolves behind it.


	5. 4: Dragon's Breath and Wolf's Fang

**Disclaimer:**_Vampire Hunter D _is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

**Author's Notes: **After a two year hiatus from fan fiction for writing my first original novel, I return. The novel's done, and as I'm waiting for it to be proofed for me so I can edit it, I decided to write a fan fiction so I wouldn't go insane.

**Innocent Souls**

**_Chapter Four: Dragon's Breath and Wolf's Fang_**

**By: Elf**

SEQ CHAPTER h r 1The window shattered. Glass sprayed harmlessly to the ground. A tiny, winged creature perched upon the broken sill. Bird like eyes roamed the room as a tiny, forked tongue poked out to lick its reptilian lips. Powerful forelegs crouched as the serpentine creature twisted its head to look at its helpless prey.

Bronach's eyes widened as the wings flexed and the diminutive dragon jumped into the room.

She sighed in relief as she started to breathe deeply through her nose. She let the air fill her lungs and looked up at the ceiling. She breathed again. She heard the dragon's claws scratch the glass softly, heard the soft wheeze of its breath.

The dragon sniffed at Cedric. Its serpentine tongue flickered out again, whispering against the boy's white cheek. It licked its chops in satisfaction and opened its mouth. Bronach's eyes widened at the curved, long ivory teeth she saw there as it lowered its head towards Cedric.

Its jaws made a hollow thunking sound.

Bronach managed to sing under the shadow gag.

"Light your fire," was all she could manage. However, she put all of her power into it. She arched back at the feel of her voice. She could barely hear it, but it was there, even more commanding than the whisper the Unseelie let upon the wind.

The dragon turned towards her. It tilted its head thoughtfully as its glowing topaz eyes flickered over her bound form. Bronach glared at it. It lifted its head high and made a bright, chirping sound that was followed by a rasping sound, much like a match being drawn.

The jet of bright white flame filled the room when it erupted from the tiny dragon's mouth.

The shadows shriveled around her. She felt their pull weaken at the sudden burst of light and warmth. She opened her mouth and jerked her head back. She felt the gag slide over her mouth enough to . . .

She screamed, loud and hard at the ceiling.

The shadow tendrils unraveled and slid from her limbs. The one around her mouth burst apart and faded into nothing. Her body slumped to the ground as she gasped for air.

The dragon was crying in pain. It was furiously rubbing its taloned hands against the sides of its head as it shook itself fiercely. Its plum colored wings beat rapidly before enclosing in a leathery membrane the color of eggplant around the creature. She watched as it crouched in fear, golden eyes peering almost coyly from furled wings.

Her throat was raw and aching. She was still shaking and her body was burning. Her clothing was clammy and sticky from sweat. She pushed her hair from her face as she looked at the dragon.

She stood to her feet. She shook herself off and glared. "That's it, wanker, this is over," she grumbled before launching herself at Cedric's bed.

Or rather, _under _Cedric's bed.

She smiled as she felt the familiar leather wrapped handle of her axe between her palms. She rose up and spun the axe. The dragon whirled around to face her.

Bronach charged, swinging up then down in a clean arch.

D heard the shrill scream right before his horse fell over.

He managed to jump off before the werewolf tore into the poor creature. The horse kicked its legs wildly as the hulking beast tore into it with teeth and claws. Blood and gore flew in the air and delicate mechanisms rolled on the ground while the wolf tore the mechanical horse apart.

D landed gracefully and went to draw his sword from his back. He scowled when his right hand found empty air and the sheath empty. He took a small silver dagger from his belt.

The wolf turned to face him. His haunting yellow eyes glowed in the darkness as he threw back his head and howled. Blood and gore dripped from his muzzle while he sounded the call for his pack. He lowered his head, looked at D, wiped his mouth with the back of a furred hand, and _smiled_.

"Missing something, Hunter?" the werewolf asked as he rose to his back haunches. Saliva dribbled onto the ground in a hot, clear thread. The smell of wet fur, musk, and blood was clotting and filling the air.

D took a stance and flipped the throwing dagger into the flat of his palm. He narrowed his eyes at the werewolf. He heard another howl in reply and his nostrils flared.

_There. Behind me._

D spun around and let the dagger fly. It spun through the air and landed in the matted fur of the werewolf coming behind him. Its reddish eyes widened before it gingerly touched the silver protruding from its chest. It gave the other werewolf a forlorn look before it crumbled to its knees and finally as a lifeless lump of fur on the ground.

Fur rustled and D spun around again.

The werewolf launched himself at D with a snarl. D ducked down as it flew over head and lifted his hands up. He felt hot, thick fur underneath his hands and pushed backwards. The werewolf tumbled to the ground and D grabbed his foot and flipped the monster onto his stomach.

The werewolf kicked back at D. D blocked the blow and rolled to his feet. He stood up and twisted so that he was presenting his side to the werewolf. He lifted one hand near his throat and face while the left hovered mid chest level.

The werewolf rose in a fluid motion. It rushed at D with his talons extended. D waited until he could smell the monster's rancid breath before bracing his hands on the wolf's furry chest again, twisting, and rolling his shoulder to use the werewolf's own momentum against him. The wolf rolled to the ground again, but was back up on his feet in a heartbeat.

D frowned, the werewolf's jaws snapped with a hollow clunking sound. The shine of the silver dagger caught D's eye. He saw it sticking out of the other werewolf's corpse from the corner of his eye. His eyes flickered back to the living werewolf as they were stuck in their stalemate.

"Oh shit," Left Hand whispered, fear making D's palm tremble. D heard the soft howls and the gentle pants of breath. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the scents of musk, fur, and the rotting stench of meat. Moldering breath fanned against his hair, hat, hands and face as he was surrounded by other werewolves.

_He's the alpha, _D reasoned as he looked at the first werewolf. His eyes flickered along the furry bodies of the other seven werewolves approaching. His eyes danced towards the knife sticking out of the corpse.

_I need my sword, _he thought grimly. Had he had his sword, he could easily plow through the werewolves. With the knife he could decimate half of the pack and head for safety. Unarmed as he was it was going to be difficult to flea without injury. His armor was already cracked from dealing with Ciaran.

His parasite was pleading, "D, get your ass out of here. You're outnumbered eight to one! And they're _werewolves_. I know you can't get cursed, but I don't wanna be dismembered and become some overgrown mutt's chew toy!"

"Quiet, they'll hear you," D hissed tersely as he looked at the werewolves. His eyes narrowed as he thought about the situation. They were circling him, covering all potential exits and keeping him trapped within. Pack hunting coordination older than the cursed that spawned them, and even in these times it was the most effective thing to trap prey.

The alpha werewolf snarled, "What'cha gonna do now, Pretty Boy?"

D's muscles tensed. He looked past the alpha's shoulder at the castle so easily within his reach. He made that his destination. He focused on that and everything else was just an obstacle to overcome.

He watched as the werewolves hunched their muscles, saw the tension in the powerful limbs, waited for the tick for movement, and when they sprang, he jumped. He flipped over them and landed nimbly on his feet. Then he started to run towards the castle, long legs propelling him quickly.

He heard the werewolves give chase. The wind whistled through their fur and the soft pant of their breath rise and fell with each step. His cape was streaming behind him like a banner. He edged forward as the wolves separated into two groups to edge him off.

_Turn around. Fight. They bleed too, _the dark side of D's nature whispered seductively. He quelled the urge until he was jerked back by his cape. He choked as he fell back to the ground. His hat flew off of his head and he landed with a bone jarring crash.

He moved his arms to push himself up when one of the werewolves bit into his calf.

Pain roared through him like a living thing. The edges of his vision blurred as blood started to jut hot and fast from the wound. The coppery, sweet smell filled his nostrils just as a second werewolf's head lowered its muzzle to his throat.

Before it could deliver the killing blow, D grabbed the monster's jaws and yanked them apart with a snarl. His vision sparked, everything grew in detail and sharpened. He could see the vivid crimson, pulsing lines marking arteries and the darker teal retracting cables that were veins. Under the musky stench of rot and wild animals, he could smell the rich, honeyed scent of magical blood. His fangs lengthened and throbbed in time with his now racing heartbeat as he kicked out with his good leg.

The werewolf that bit him reared back on his hind legs and growled. D rasped in a husky voice, "Stay." D met the creature's eyes and pushed with his mind. The werewolf's yellow eyes glazed over as he staggered back dumbly.

"What the _fuck_?" the Alpha male proclaimed as D spun to face him.

He lashed out.

Gleaming claws on fine, alabaster hands flew past furred ones and parted through warm flesh. Hot blood spilled on D's hands as the werewolf staggered back, clutching at his now wounded throat. He fell to his knees and gasped at D.

D snapped his foot up to kick the wolf in the mouth. The werewolf's head fell back, spraying more blood into the air. In his enraged state, D strode over to the werewolf and froze.

He noted that the other werewolves had taken the opportunity to rush to the castle.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt his fangs retract back into place and his vision, while still quite sharp, dulled from the hypersensitivity he was using moments before. The werewolf he had hypnotized had ran off with his pack mates, however, the Alpha was still trying to heal.

D walked over to the corpse of the werewolf he killed earlier. He yanked the dagger out and shook blood and gore off of it. Then he started to head for the castle again.

Except he made sure to stab the knife through the Alpha's heart and withdraw it on the way.

Bronach shook blood off her axe and shoved her hair back from her face. Her hair was wildly falling around her, her clothing torn and bloody, and she had bloody streaks all over her pale flesh, but she was smiling. A rather predatory smile as the frightened arachnid man skittered back from her as she advanced with her axe.

His feet clicked on the sleek marble floor. Bronach took a slow step towards him. He scurried back, his eight eyes blinking at her. Then she charged at him. He turned and ran.

She slid to the floor and pushed hard. She extended her axe to the left and swung it up sharply to the right. The spider-man screamed as cool sickly, yellow-green ooze poured all over her. She cut up and flipped up to her feet with a satisfied grin.

"M'Lady, what's going on here?" the nurse screamed, sliding on various viscous fluids that had splattered into the hallway.

Bronach shook off her axe and looked around. She looked back at the soulless children lying prone in their beds and the corpse of the arachnid man. She looked at the nurse and replied, "Get back in there with the children. That bastard put a Call out onto the wind so that anything hungry will know there's an all you can eat children's buffet here."

"My lady, they could come in through the windows," the nurse protested with a tiny squeak.

Bronach grinned and blew a gore streaked lock of hair from her face. She retorted, "Not if I had anything to say about it."

The nurse looked in at the small dragon indeed guarding the windows. It flapped its wings and hovered, watching out into the night. _Her_ topaz eyes were alert and she watched the children as if they were own hatchlings. It took Bronach a simple song to tweak the dragoness's maternal urges, but it worked. A second song to add a warding around the room and fragile windows. Then she saw to the hall herself.

The nurse gasped, "My _Lady_ there is a _dragon_ in there!"

"A very helpful lass, if I say so myself," Bronach said with a tiny grin. She frowned as her ears twitched. She spun to one of the huge windows in the hallway. A scowl marked her pretty face as she looked down to see the six werewolves running towards the castle.

"Well, bloody hell, get into the room," she shouted at the nurse before running off to face the werewolves.

"Woah, looks like someone started the party without us," Left Hand whispered as D ran into the hallway.

D's eyes darted at the carnage around him. He frowned at the legless arachnid man who was rendered in half. Gore in various colors was splattered across the walls and the marble floor and gave the room an odd, sickly smell.

He counted the remains of tiny child eating erlkings, whom Bronach was probably already quite familiar with, a moth man, and he saw a spiny hand lying prone in the corner. D noted the lack of arm attached to said hand but kept moving. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck go on end as he felt a charge suddenly race up his body.

He realized he reached where the children were being kept. The whole area hummed and trembled with protective magic. It smelled richly of ozone and lavender. Bronach.

He felt a tiny stab of amusement when he realized who had been the cause of the carnage in the castle. He heard a tiny, chirping sound. He spun into the room to see his sword laying on the ground.

His eyes narrowed.

Ciaran had been here. With Bronach. He ran into the room to collect his sword. The sapphire around his throat glowed faintly, casting him in an eerie blue light.

A bright jet of white flame came rushing at his face. He rolled to the side and peered up. A small, dark purple dragoness hissed at him, her golden eyes blazing.

She drew back into the air, higher this time. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling with each movement. Her wings beat the air mercilessly as she opened her mouth towards D again. He watched her open maw for sparks.

As soon as he saw the bright blue sparks inside of the dragon's mouth, he spun to the side. With a swift movement he took off his cape and swung it towards the dragon. The dragoness squeaked in protest as D gathered the ends of the cape and yanked her down to earth. He tied the ends of the cloth together in a makeshift bag and dropped her into the ground. The dragoness' claws and wings beat furiously at the heavy cloth while D grabbed his sword.

He ran back into the hallway to see a werewolf stumble backward. He heard snarls and a feminine scream. Not full of power and force, but afraid and injured. He smelled sweet, tangy, pure blood in the air.

He unsheathed his sword and rushed at the group of werewolves circling Bronach.

Bronach was nursing her left shoulder. Blood welled up in shallow claw marks, but other than that she was unmarked. One of the werewolves lunged at her, knocking her into the wall. Her axe was wrenched away from her hand and it clattered harmlessly to the ground.

As he rushed at the werewolves, indigo eyes met his.

Amazingly, she grinned impishly. It lit up her face and made that lower lip curve provocatively. The werewolf snorted and reached out to touch her gore incrusted hair.

D braced himself and covered his ears.

Bronach screamed: loud, hard, and long. The sound of it echoed through the palace and shook the floor. Tiny bits of plaster and stone crumbled from the walls. The werewolf pawing her was thrown back.

Pain filled howls filled the air. The werewolves clutched their ears and howled mournfully. Some of them even fell to their knees. Bronach flipped her axe back into her hands. D lowered his hands from his ears and readied his own blade.

She smiled at him and he nodded in return.

"Come, bring your pretty face into my axe!" she taunted before charging at the werewolf who had pinned her.

D said nothing as he charged with his blade drawn. This time he had the advantage. The werewolves were still too stunned to react as he charged.

He swung up, down, and to both sides. He felt his blade cleanly cleave through flesh, bone, and muscle. Blood sprayed as heads rolled. Within mere heartbeats, he and Bronach were looking at each other standing in a pile of lycanthrope bodies.

She took a step towards him. Her face was alight with relief and he found the expression novel and touching. Then worry clouded her pale countenance as she looked at his wounded leg.

"Bloody hell, D, the tossers took a right bite out of you, didn't they?" she asked as she knelt down to inspect the wound.

He tried to twist out of her sight, but she grabbed his knee. He stumbled slightly but managed to right himself. She studied the bite thoughtfully. Her touch was gentle and soothing.

He tried to wrench his leg free again.

He hissed as pain welled up through the wound once more. He felt a stab of heat as the wound reopened. Bronach gasped and pressed her palm to it. "Easy," she said softly, "Easy . . ."

"The children?" he asked, looking down at her, reaching for any distraction.

"They'll be safe for the moment," Bronach replied softly.

He told her, "Blackmoure is dead."

"I gathered as much. So, are you going to continue?" she asked softly. D thought he detected a bit of hope in her voice.

He looked around to the great room where the children lay. He thought of Cedric, who was now alone in the world. He thought of Blackmoure, who had died for these children. It wouldn't seem right to quit now.

"You need help," D told her and Bronach smiled at him.

She retorted, "Oh, like you were doing so great yourself now. First, you need these tended."

"Hold still," Bronach hissed.

D jerked his leg away from her and she glared up at him. He told her, "It is fine."

"Please, it's still bleeding," she snorted as she grabbed his calf again. He tried to hobble away from her. She shoved him by the waist into the chair behind him. D fell silently into the chair and glared at her.

She knelt in front of him as she looked at the wound. She bent closer and scowled at the bites. His armor prevented it from snapping the bone. "Damned mutts," she grumbled as she reached beside her.

D gave a sound that was somewhere between an annoyed grunt and a sigh. She picked up the bowl with the poultice the nurse just mixed for her. She began to dab the reddish mixture onto the wound.

A light, fruity smell filled her nostrils and she smiled. D blinked and said, "Dragon's Blood?"

"Luckily she had some. It'll form a light, easily removable covering until this heals," she explained.

A tiny, nasal voice snorted, "He already knew that, honey. He's got brains, not just beauty."

D's left hand closed into a tight fist. His jaw twitched and his eyes narrowed. Bronach grabbed his wrist. He started to jerk his hand away from her.

He asked, "What are you doing?"

Bronach ignored him and tried to uncurl his fingers away from his palm. He jerked his hand away, she kept hold of it. He jerked up and she came up with his arm. He jerked his arm back towards him. She teetered and landed right on top of him.

There was loud, nasal laughing coming from his left hand.

"Would you just _shut up_?" D asked as he glared at his hand.

Bronach blinked up at him. His black hair was spilling down his shoulders, falling almost to his waist. Without his hat, she could see his face clearly. She traced the aquiline nose, the full lips, and those dark, soulful eyes with her eyes.

She wanted to touch it. Touch him. Smooth that one lock of hair between his eyes from his face. Her clean hand was twitching towards it.

The light, fruity smell of Dragon's Blood mingled with the soft, clean tang of lilies.

"Hey, you know, why she's down there you can ask her to . . ." D's fingers curved over his palm again.

Bronach grabbed his hand and managed to slide her fingers under his. His eyes widened. She frowned as she made out the distinct shapes of a nose and a brow. Then something wet and warm flicked across her finger.

She yelped and drew her hand away. "It _licked_ me!"

"Hey, she's pretty tasty," D's Left Hand snickered, "You might wanna try it, D."

D's cheeks flushed ever so slightly. He said, "I apologize."

"What's there anyway?" Bronach asked as she reluctantly stood up from him.

D sighed and opened up his palm. Her eyes widened at the beady little eyes, the tiny nose, and the wide, thin mouth there. She poked its nose, then ran her finger under its lips and poked it again.

She exclaimed, "Wicked! You have a Life Force Regenerator! I've heard of 'em, but cor, never seen one in person!"

"He has his uses," D replied stonily as he lowered his hand.

Bronach smiled and replied, "But that's amazing though."

He simply shrugged and looked at his leg. He nodded and looked back up at her. Again, that one lock of hair simply _begged_ for her to smooth it.

"Thank you, it's starting to heal even faster now," he said softly.

Bronach shrugged and replied, "Well, you're welcome."

Then he stood up and walked back to the children. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Bronach grimaced as she broke off a dried piece of resin from her hair. Apparently, arachnid men didn't have blood. Or it dried in some consistency like resin.

The dragoness was chirping furiously at her. Her wings flapped as the dragon described what D had done to her. Bronach bent down and pet the dragon's sleek, scaly head. The dragon purred and leaned against her hand.

"Thank you for helping me," Bronach told her as she took to the air again. The dragon made a tiny, purring sound before flapping out into the night. Bronach watched as the diminutive dragon departed before turning around.

Blackmoure was dead. The faerie was named Ciaran. And he'd go to the next town to collect the remaining souls he needed.

"And as noticed just moments ago where werewolves and spider-men were attacking, the children need protection," Bronach mused dryly to herself.

"You could hire other hunters using Blackmoure's money. He wouldn't mind."

Bronach jumped to see D standing behind her. He was looking out the window at the flying dragon as well.

Bronach leaned against the window pane and asked, "But could I trust them?"

"Not in this area, no," D answered with an unreadable expression.

She toyed with the crow pendent around her throat. She twisted it along its chain before studying the dark jewels it was made from. She looked at D with a tiny grin.

"I know of another faerie who'd be willing to take the job," she answered dryly.

D said, "I'll start getting ready. I want to look at Blackmoure's maps before hand, see where Ciaran would attack next before we leave. And to see if there is a noble in the area."

Bronach opened her mouth to make a comment about bloodsuckers, but decided against it. She didn't want to offend her new companion. Not with that damned urge to smooth back that one lock of hair that was _still in his eyes_.

"She seemed happy to see you," Left Hand said as D began to look through Blackmoure's library.

D replied, "Ciaran probably told her that I was dead."

"Well, at least he didn't get his grimy, glowing hands on her. I mean, he could have bound her up like he did you and not a damned thing she could have done about it. I mean, I know what I'd be doing. Well, if she was willing because not gonna go there," Lefty prattled on, clearing its throat as D continued to look at the maps.

D allowed a tiny smile to grace his features as he said, "I doubt that she would have let him touch her, no matter what magic he worked."

"Wonder what magic she's working on _you_," the tiny parasite taunted, "Or what magic you're working on _her_."

D argued, "You're being preposterous. Quiet."

"Well, she's a looker, and she was _damn_ tasty. And that was just her finger. Imagine how good the rest of her tastes," Left Hand prompted happily.

D sighed as he continued to look through the various maps Blackmoure collected. Blackmoure even kept journals about Nobles in the region. D recognized many of the names. Most of which he had killed. Even Count Magnus Lee and his daughter Larmika were listed in the thick tomes. Meier Link was briefly mentioned, but there was no mention of his tragic love, which D thought was just as well.

After all, he was living proof that vampire and human romances didn't end Happily Ever After.

Sighing, he looked at the map. The nearest town was Batharoy. It was a large town, but there was a problem.

He looked up when the smell of lavender filled the room. He turned around to see Bronach standing there. She padded over to him with bare feet.

She was wearing a simple white robe that hit her at about mid calf. It clung to her still wet skin, revealing long, clean lines and lithe muscle, but still managed to look utterly feminine. Damp dark gold tendrils of wet hair clung to her cheeks and dripped water down her face. He swallowed as he watched the droplets slide a trail down her slim throat.

He remembered Doris, fresh out of the shower like this. He remembered a desperate plea that he would always remember, as well as a thousand regrets. He remembered the smell of fresh skin and the sweet, coppery blood underneath.

But Bronach didn't rush to him, _Thank God, _but beside him to study the map.

"Batharoy, I've heard of that place. Sodding hell hole it is," she said with a grimace.

D replied, "It's a home for bounty hunters."

"Of the nasty sort I've heard," she snorted as she pushed her wet hair back from her face.

D gave her a stony look. She lifted her eyebrow and grinned impishly at him. He stepped away from her.

He knew of the hunters that she spoke of. Those like ReiGinsei and his group. The ones that took advantage of everyone around them and thought themselves higher than everyone else. _Predators worse than the ones that they hunt, _D thought grimly.

He replied, "They're suppose to be helping people, not taking advantage of them. Some of the hunters out there are worse than their supposed quarry."

"That's why I'm called for," Bronach said with a tiny smile.

He looked at her, dripping wet, wearing a dressing robe too short for her that hung awkwardly on her, with her head held up like a queen. Her eyes gleamed up at him. He had an urge to have his Left Hand drop the glamor, so he could see her true self.

Instead he said, "It's not going to be easy. There was once a powerful vampire lord in Batharoy. Ciaran might join forces with him."

"Bloody hell, when it rains, it pours," Bronach sighed, "So, you haven't killed this wanker yet?"

D looked at Blackmoure's journal and answered, "I heard word that he was killed. There hasn't been any attacks at Batharoy for the last thirty years. I have had more pressing hunts than to chase one shadow."

"Ones that payed better too," Bronach teased.

He glared at her and retorted in an icy voice, "People in need, Morrigan's Grace. Besides there are plenty of hunters in Batharoy, whether or not they are men of moral isn't really part of the equation if they do their jobs. Besides, if they are of fault, they will die soon enough."

"Ooh, fatalist thinking. Candle flicker and its over. Why bother to socialize with them when they'll be dead soon?" Bronach bantered back with a smile.

D gripped the table as he narrowed his eyes at her. "I am a _dhampire_. I don't belong in their world, nor do they want me there other to do what I do."

"Because you're _afraid_!" Bronach exclaimed, poking D's chest with a finger.

D blinked back at her and glared down at her hand. She smiled and raised that sardonic eyebrow at him. His head was pounding and spinning and a blurry, distracting heat was bringing everything into hyper focus.

"And you are infuriating," D stated as he gently pushed her hand away from him.

She smiled winsomely up at him and retorted, "I'm no damsel in distress that'll swoon at your pretty face either."

D blinked as she smiled up at him. She turned away from him and said, "Come on, I was even holding my own. We were at a stalemate while fighting. It could have gone either way hadn't you'd brought your little hand into it."

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded of her. He folded his arms over his chest and continued to glare at her. Yet he noted the stubborn lift of her pointed chin, the chiseled line of her nose, the curve of her cheekbones, and that her bottom lip was plumper than the top. A sulky little pout that was beaconing his attention to it with each smile, grin, and smirk she gave him.

Bronach answered, "Because I'm not a damsel in distress that will simper and mewl at your presence. But I'm not a bigot who won't ignore help, and I do notice talent and wisdom when it smacks me in the face."

D blinked at her and she sighed in exasperation. D frowned at her and she smiled at him. He felt vibrations in his left palm. He clinched his fist as his parasite laughed at him.

He sighed as well and rubbed his brow. Then she began to laugh, a rich, throaty sound. He looked at her and she laughed harder, doubling over on the table with one hand on her chest.

"Bronach?" he asked.

She let out another bark of laughter before sitting on the floor.

He stared down at her and asked, "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him. There were tears of mirth gathered at the corners of her eyes. She giggled up at him and wiped her face. She chuckled, "Never better, D. Just . . . you wouldn't get it."

"Wouldn't get _what?_" D asked stiffly.

Bronach smiled at him and shook her head.

He sighed and looked at the map again. He stated, "We're going to need supplies, and what about the person you said would protect the children?"

"She'll be here soon," Bronach replied, still grinning up at him.

He wanted to know what the hell she was grinning at him like that for.

But, he had to admit that he was beginning to like it.


	6. 5: The Vile Village and Temptation Bloo

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1**Disclaimer:**_Vampire Hunter D _is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1**Innocent Souls**

**_Chapter Five: The Vile Village and Temptation Blooming_**

**By: Elf**

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Dawn of the Dead was one of the most pragmatic Fey that Bronach had met, and one of the most fun. She was mostly human, but her elfin blood ran strong through her veins and marked her through her unique magical talent and her long pointed ears. Ears that dripped with steel studs and rings enough to make Bronach cringe and hold her own tapered ears protectively.

Dawn stood a whole head shorter than Bronach, and was positively dwarfed by D. However, that didn't faze the elf much. In fact, she strode into Blackmoure's castle, tossed her long platinum blond hair and asked where the _hell_ Bronach was and muttered that this had better be good.

"Well, I need your help," Bronach said to the elf.

Dawn rolled her large silver eyes and snorted, "Well yeah. I mean, it's not everyday that a huge fucking crow pecks at my window and starts talking to me in the voice that could only belong to one person."

"That's a hard spell to rig up," Bronach snorted.

Dawn retorted, "Well, yeah, if you haven't gotten laid."

Bronach glared. Dawn grinned impishly and stretched, causing her shirt to rise and show off the black dragon tattooed around her pierced navel. "Yeah, I know the whole virgin shtick is part of your oh so great reputation that makes lesser fey wet their knickers when you come a-calling, Bron, but you _need _to **_so_** get over that. It increases your magical ability too," Dawn suggested.

Bronach sighed and shook her head. Dawn was the paramour of Lucifer the Null, the bastard son of Lady Noreen, High Chamberlain of the Joint Council and Prime Minister of the Unseelie Council, and a Barbaroi incubus warrior. Noreen was one of the main ones responsible for sending Bronach out if needed, even though Noreen was fully capable of doing so herself.

"Who is she?" D whispered softly as he watched as Dawn looked around the castle.

Bronach answered, "Dawn of the Dead, elfin paramour to Lucifer the Null."

"Why is her title 'of the Dead'?" D asked as Dawn made her way to the infirmary.

Bronach grinned and answered, "Because she is a true necromancer."

"The Nobles kill every necromancer they hear about," D replied, "Faerie or not."

Bronach leaned against the archway and said, "She's not Faerie, she is an elf. And they tried. They killed her human mother in front of her. Dawn's tenacious and back her into a corner and she'll fight like a cat to win."

"Holy shit! Their souls, they're _gone_!" Dawn cried from the infirmary.

Bronach grinned at D before sweeping past him to talk to her friend. She reached the infirmary to find Dawn swinging a moonstone pendulum over the children. At least trying to and failing because the children had no spiritual energy to make the stone spin. Save for Cedric, even soulless he had physical power to make it spin and sway.

"This kid's not human," Dawn said as she peered at the boy.

D supplied, "His father was Lord Blackmoure and his mother was a vampire huntress."

"Now there's a tortured romance for you," Dawn snorted as she put the pendent back into her jeans' pocket.

Bronach asked, "Will you protect the children while we go hunt the rogue Faerie."

"What's the bum fuck's name?" Dawn asked as she peered at the little girl beside Cedric.

D answered, "Ciaran."

Dawn's head shot up and her eyes widened. She froze as she looked at D. Then she looked at Bronach. She asked, "He didn't say Ciaran did he?"

"Aye, he did," Bronach confirmed, nodding her head.

Dawn walked away from the children, wringing her tiny hands together. She shook her head and looked owlishly at Bronach. She said, "Don't go, Bron. Don't go after him, please. Lucifer and Noreen would skin me if I let you take on Ciaran alone."

"Why?" D asked.

Dawn glared at D and snapped, "This isn't like hunting a vampire. This is . . . He has imps and goblins and even _trolls_ loyal to him, Bron. Not only that, his shadow weaving abilities make Noreen's look like utter crap. And he's insane, going on and on about the Wild Hunt when they haven't been seen for years. Not to mention he's obviously managed to crack the spell on how to separate a soul from a body and keep the soul whole and to him without it going to the Ether. Not even I can manage that sort of mojo, and I'm a necromancer."

D's dark eyes met Bronach's. Obviously, he was unafraid. Or he was just so damned brave that he didn't care. Or that stupid.

"Thanks, Dawnie, but, will you protect the children?" Bronach prodded gently.

Dawn's nose wrinkled as she asked, "I don't have to change any diapers, do I?"

"No, there's a nurse who does that," Bronach chuckled.

Dawn looked around and shrugged. She answered, "Sure, why the fuck not? I mean, it's been ages since I've gotten to kick ass. Besides, Ciaran won't be coming back here. He already has what he needs."

"That's why we're leaving," D stated, looking at Bronach.

Dawn ran over to Bronach and hugged her. Bronach stroked the young elf's flaxen hair and kissed her on the forehead. "Be careful," the punky elf whispered.

"What's the fun in that?" Bronach retorted with a wink as she walked over to D, giving the children one last look before they left.

D was inspecting Blackmoure's mount. Of course, it was in better shape than his ever was and top of the line. It looked at D with blazing artificial crimson eyes and snorted. It restlessly pawed its hay as D tightened his saddle around it.

In the stall next to his he heard a hauntingly beautiful voice singing softly in Gaelic. He could only translate a few of the words, but the song was soothing, filled with hope and promise. He looked over to see Bronach tending to a black cybernetic horse that was almost the twin of D's own mount, save for the sharp steel points that came out of the horse's head like horns that marked D's mount the mount of a Noble.

He watched as she combed the mount's mane and checked its hooves. She rose back to her feet and continued to sing her song in the horse's ear. The horse turned its head toward her and bent toward her shoulder. She laughed as it proceeded to nibble at her collar before moving towards her braid.

"Off with you now," she laughed as she gently shoved the horse's face away.

D looked at Bronach and asked, "Are you ready?"

"Aye, lets get this over with," Bronach answered as she mounted her horse.

D mounted his horse as well and they rode out of the stables. A few of the stable hands were watching them wearily. Bronach placed a black felt hat on her head that shielded her face from the sun and hid her ears. She looked at him with a smile.

He nodded in return as they rode out of the gardens. She leaned forward on her horse and smirked at him. "Race you to the gates," she challenged with a mischievous glint in her indigo eyes.

D blinked at her and his left palm was vibrating again. He tightened his fist over the reigns and glared at her. "Well, I'd be leery to race me too. I mean, why try when you'll lose anyway, right?" she taunted. Then she snapped her reigns and tapped the horse's sides with her heels.

The horse whinnied loudly before taking off. Its hooves pounded up tiny clouds of coppery dust as she rode, her braid whipping behind her like a golden banner. D's eyes narrowed and he shook his head.

He knew getting the horses worked up at the beginning of this trip would do them no good. Then again, they were riding cybernetic mounts. Top of the line ones none the less. He figured she'd taunt and tease him the entire way if he didn't take up her challenge.

"Can't let her have that now, can you D?" his Left Hand chuckled, as if he was reading D's thoughts. D knew he couldn't, but they were so much a part of one and another that they didn't need to.

D leaned forward, slapped the reigns, and dug his heels into the horse's flanks. The horse took off with its hooves pounding the pathway like thunder. Bronach's braid loomed closer and he could hear her joyous laughing as he caught up with her.

He caught abreast with her and she smiled at him. He rose off the horse and bent forward even more. With less of his weight bearing on its back, the horse took off like a rocket. His feet barely touched the ground as they reached the gate.

The cool air whipped at his face, hair and tugged at his hat. It promised to be a pleasant ride, well, pleasant for traveling on the Frontier. The sun would be setting earlier and earlier each night, proving a blessing for him.

He tilted his head up and sniffed the crisp air. The horse was running so fast he seemed like he was flying. It was odd, this freedom and Bronach's laughter ringing in his ears.

He reached the gate and slowed the horse down.

The air shimmered around them. D stopped his horse as he felt something _rush_ from the ground. It was cool and burning at the same time. It rushed up and he felt an invisible barrier being built around the castle. His stomach churned and his heart thundered.

He felt a warm, slim hand cover his. He turned to see Bronach looking at him reassuringly as she squeezed his hand. He looked back at the castle and narrowed his eyes.

Around the castle, undetectable from human eyes, there was a silvery red haze all around it, like crystal shards. It shimmered and wavered. It radiated coldness. "A ward, a necromancer's ward," he murmured to himself, suddenly realizing why Bronach asked Dawn to come here.

The elf's ward was a far more potent guard system than the electronics and force shields that most Nobles used. Nothing could get in unless Dawn allowed it. He looked back at Bronach and she grinned.

She stated, "I'm more than a pretty voice you know."

"Quite," he said in agreement as he turned toward the rocky desert awaiting them. "We should go," he added softly.

Bronach nodded and replied, "Before the sun becomes too much a problem."

He nodded in agreement as he spurred his horse into movement again. Bronach kept up with him easily. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying his brisk pace and for that he was thankful. He could do without a whining maid, but then again, Bronach herself proclaimed that she was no damsel in distress.

And he thanked God for small favors.

Saying Batharoy was a cesspit was being kind to the city.

It was large for a frontier city, complete with thick electromagnetic gates that wrapped around the front of the main town itself. In the mountain in the distance a huge black castle was looming in the distance. Loud noise, gunshots and music could be heard the closer one ventured to the town. Cows, horses and sheep were being loud and whining, which was accompanied by the occasional human curse and snap of a whip. The main street was paved with a pinkish stone, but was dotted in bits of manure and an occasional body. There were more saloons and whore houses than stores, and rowdy Hunters raced on the street on horse back or on motorcycles.

D and Bronach approached the city gates.

Suddenly, Bronach pressed her hands to her ears and doubled over in pain. D looked at her. Her glamor began to crack, revealing a sickly glow to her skin, not the radiant one he'd first encountered when he forced her to drop her glamor. In fact, it was like the glow she had when clasped in cold iron.

He nudged his horse closer to her and lifted her hat. Her breath was rapid and tinny, her nostrils made tiny whistling sounds with each inhale. She looked up at her and he bent forward.

"You can't come with me if this is going to be a regular occurrence," he told her.

Bronach gestured to the gate and whispered, "There's too much iron around. Just let me get past the barrier and I should be all right."

"Are you sure?" D asked her skeptically.

She nodded weakly. He placed her hat back on her head and asked, "Can you sit up?"

Bronach took a deep breath and reached under her shirt. She tightened her fist around something and rose up. Her glamor slammed back into place, leaving her pale, but other wise normal looking. She closed her eyes and her mouth moved rapidly as her fingers moved under her shirt, right around her throat.

She was chanting in Gaelic, over and over again. "_My Lady of the Three.__ The Lady, the Wolf, and the Crow. The Morrigan, I plead for you to give me strength._"

D watched as the glamor slammed back into place. She sat up and flipped her braid off her shoulder. She squared her shoulders and looked up at the gate. "_Caochan_! I swear, humans and their nicknacks. If a wee beastie wanted in, they could get in."

D nodded in agreement as they approached the city gates. He narrowed his eyes and looked up. Sitting in a hidden hollow was someone dressed in head to toe in silvery armor. A pale violet piece of glass made up the visor that gleamed in the shadows of the hovel. The person had a laser rifle trained on them.

"See the man in the combat suit?" D whispered softly.

Bronach nodded with a tiny grin. She replied, "Aye. Wanna see him fall of his post?"

"Not at the moment," D chided as he watched the man direct his gun toward him.

D looked around to the out post on the top of the gate. A young man dressed in the sensible, protective leather clothing of a rider was looking back at them. He was soon joined by various other men of different shapes and sizes dressed any where between the man in the combat suit and the clothing of the rider. The rider tipped his hat back and squinted.

All he'd be able to see were a tall man and a woman both dressed in black. Bronach's was of a finer material and make than D's. He knew that they'd assume he was working for her. Which was what he wanted.

"Hello down there, what's your business in Batharoy?" the rider shouted down to them.

D looked at Bronach and sharply whispered, "Don't give him one of your arrogant half answers."

"D, you need to learn to lighten up," she retorted with that grin of hers, the plump lower lip curving wickedly.

D glared down at her and pushed back a wave of irritation. He said, "Just tell him we'd like to see the mayor and sheriff."

"We have business with the mayor and sheriff. It's quite important," Bronach shouted out, her lilting voice ringing.

D looked up at the guards in satisfaction. The rider turned to D and shouted, "Is that true, or do you let your woman do all the talking for you?"

In the corner of his eye he saw Bronach bristle. He saw her hand going toward her axe. He looked up at the rider. He answered, "She is her own person. Now, we need to speak to the sheriff and mayor immediately."

"Why the hell do you need to?" the leader shouted back. D heard the electrical hum of rifles being cocked and loaded. D lifted his head and stared the young man down.

D answered, "That's not of your concern. Let us in."

"We don't let fucking half-bastards in our city. So turn back around, _dhampire_ before we turn you around ourselves," the man in the combat suit shouted from his post.

D's eyes narrowed. The horse stamped impatiently into the sand and danced back then up again. "Like Dave said, we don't allow fucking half-breeds in our city. Now turn around before we fucking chase your ass out!" the leader snapped.

D was about to tell Bronach that they'd have to find another way in. He was use to this sort of treatment after all. After a thousand or so years, you found other ways to get around it.

However, Bronach dismounted off her horse and tipped her hat back. She strode up to the gates and looked directly up at the leader. The guards were nudging and pointing at her between bewildered chuckles.

"You, _Blaigeard_, are an ignorant hick. Now, you'll let us in or I'll let us in, and trust me, child, you don't want me to let myself in. It gets rather violent and ends up with you on your arses and bleeding. Not to mention all the violence and fowl language that I don't want to have wee ones seeing and hearing," Bronach proclaimed with a smirk.

The guards laughed at her. D covered his ears and bowed his head. She took a deep breath and screamed.

The horses reared. The ground shook slightly. Pops, hisses, sizzles, and the sound of glass shattering harmonized with the screech. The guards shouted, cursed, winched and covered their ears. The force field wasn't glowing anymore. She walked right up to the gate, took off her axe, and swung it up.

She brought her axe down in a hard arch. A loud cling sounded and then the gate creaked. It swung open with a push of her hand. Then she tossed her hair, turned back around, and mounted her horse again.

She smiled at D. D sighed, "You shouldn't have done that."

"Pfffft. Stop worrying," she chuckled as she trotted right through the gates. Sighing, D spurred his horse into motion. He looked around to see people leaving the streets and heading indoors.

They were soon surrounded by the rider and his guards. D heard a slight electrical hum from behind him. Bronach spun her axe and smiled.

"Kill the _dhampire_, leave the bitch alive," the leader hissed.

D simply looked at the men and they skittered back from him. He looked over at Bronach. She smiled at him before looking at the leader. She slid off her horse and said, "Let me handle this, D."

"Wait, did she say D?" one of the guards asked, a huge hulking man with a purple Mohawk and scroll work etched into his black skin.

The leader swore, "Mother fucker. Men, stand the hell down."

"Wow, the hillbillies have some sense after all," Bronach drawled.

D stepped down from his horse and said, "We need to speak with the mayor and sheriff."

"Well, we don't have either. I'm Sean MacCallaugh," the leader said as he took his hat off. He had bright, curly red hair, fair skin, and iridescent green eyes.

D nodded and Sean stepped closer. "So, Hunter D, what's so damned important and what the hell is she?"

"The children of your village are in danger from something far worse than what she is, and much more powerful," D told him, "Is there some place we can talk away from prying eyes?"

"Course. The saloon. I have an office there," Sean replied with a nod as he turned around, gesturing for them to follow.

Sean's "office" was a poker table in the back of a bar where a curvy blonde wrapped dressed in no more than a handkerchief wrapped around him and played with his red curls. He smiled at her and patted her rear. She let off a delighted squeal as she trotted off.

Bronach rolled her eyes and sat down at the table. D was sitting so he could watch the door and the rest of the saloon. Whores were leaning over and pointing at D, smiling and whispering about the lovely hunter behind their fans. She rolled her eyes and looked back at Sean.

Sean asked, "You a mutant?"

"_Nae_, I'm something that the world thought long gone," Bronach answered as the blond strumpet returned with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. One she placed in front of Sean and the other in front of D. D picked up the glass and started to hand it to her.

Bronach snatched the glass out of D's hand and grabbed the whiskey out of the girl's. Sean looked at D and said, "Sorry, we don't cater to blood sucking around here. This is about the strongest we have."

D's look was as frosty and intense as ever. Bronach saw that one lock of hair fall between his eyes. Her hand itched. He looked back at her, his hat obscuring his face.

She opened the bottle of whiskey and poured herself and Sean a glass. Sean asked, "So, what the hell is going on?" His iridescent green eyes flickered between her and D. She took a drink of whiskey. She preferred absinthe, as did most Fey, but it wasn't bad.

"Have you heard what has happened to Blackston?" D asked.

Sean took a large gulp of his drink and nodded. He answered, "Yeah, kids all struck down by some plague or something. I think Blackmoure's got something to do with it."

"Blackmoure is dead," D said.

Sean chuckled as he raised his glass to D. He chortled, "Well, Hunter, I guess you are as good as they say. Killing a leech like Blackmoure is a might impressive thing to do."

"He didn't kill Blackmoure," Bronach drawled sardonically.

Sean laughed as he looked at her. He snorted, "Your voice might be impressive and all, but I don't think it'll kill fucking Lord Blackmoure."

"I didn't kill him either," Bronach retorted as she took another drink.

Confusion dawned in Sean's glowing green eyes. Bronach looked him over. His hair was too rich a red. His skin too flawless for a natural redhead, not a freckle marking the milky paleness, nor a sunburn scorching it.

Sean asked, "What the hell are you two getting at?"

"The children had their souls extracted from their bodies," D stated.

Sean's eyes widened and he grew even paler. He stuttered, "I thought those magics were long lost."

D's dark eyes flickered over towards her. She raised her eyebrow. D looked back at him. He continued, "They are to be offered in a ritual."

"_What_ _the fucking hell stole them?_" Sean cried. He clutched the table roughly. Rings of vibration were going through his golden whiskey. Two bright red spots appeared high on his cheeks.

Bronach answered, "An Unseelie Shadow Wielder."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Sean hissed.

D answered, "I'm sure you have heard of the Barbaroi, yes?"

Sean nodded.

D continued, "There are those among their ranks that can control shadows and travel through them, and make traps out of them. While Ciaran can do this, he can also bend shadows into shape and form so they can do damage or bind someone. He sneaks into the child's room, steals the soul, and escapes without a trace."

"Well, we'll post guards at every house that has a kid," Sean snapped, "Can't get past all of us."

Bronach snickered. D looked at her and she shrugged. "What? You know he can," she sighed and shook her head.

Sean glared and said, "The crew here are bad asses. We hunt any and everything from were-tigers to," a coy smirk towards D, "_dhampires_."

"Well, we didn't say you were overly intelligent," Bronach drawled sardonically.

The corners of D's lips quirked up ever so slightly. She returned the smile and watched Sean. Sean snorted, "We could have killed the both of you as soon as you crossed the fucking threshold."

Bronach met D's gaze. Again, his lips turned up ever so slightly. She grinned back at him. "Of course you could, lad," she retorted as she downed the rest of her whiskey, "But ye've never dealt with the likes of Ciaran before."

"So, what the hell are you proposing that we do, bitch?" Sean snorted.

D answered, "Hide the children in a place where there is a high iron content. It would render Ciaran's magics and make it harder for him to take them. Risk as much man power as you have to guard the children. We will take care of Ciaran."

"Sorry, hause, but we've got our own way of doing things around here. We've got an inn, you take your mouthy twit here and get settled in. I'm not getting the people riled up around here just because some half-bloodsucker tells me so, and I don't give a flying fuck who he is," Sean proclaimed as he stood up from the table. "Now, I've gotta talk to my men about some poison moth men running loose."

"How quaint," Bronach grumbled beside D as they entered the room. Apparently, the only room they had was a single suite. It was cramped with a low ceiling and heavy wood paneling with a table, two chairs, a vanity, and a huge bed.

"I shall describe this bed as orgy sized," the blonde grumbled as she sat down on the bed, her bags dropping beside her.

D ignored her and walked over to the table. He sat down and pulled out the various maps from his utility belt. He unrolled them and began to look at them.

His eyes narrowed as he looked the layout of the town over. Due to the heavy force field the town was in the shape of an octagon. Eight sides around a circular center. Right now the field around the main gate was being repaired due to Bronach's impatience.

However, she had trouble getting into the gate.

He drifted his gaze over to where she was sitting on the bed and going through her things. A few golden strands glowed in the sunlight coming from the window and stuck out against the blackness of her clothing. _Like a candle in the middle of a darkened room, _D thought dryly as he watched her pull a few different sized crystals from her bag.

He recognized them all as various types of quartz, even rare Mountain Blue Quartz that was such a bright blue it almost glowed. For a while it was one of the mainstays of Noble technology before they found out that they couldn't produce it synthetically. The neon blue crystal created by the various pollution and radiation from man's various wars were replaced by easier to manufacture sapphires, rubies, and diamonds.

He asked, "Would Ciaran encounter the same difficulty that you did coming into the city?"

"_Nae_" she replied in her native Gaelic with a tiny shake of her head, "He'd travel within the Shadows and will himself into a child's room."

D sighed, "And be out with the child's soul before anyone knew any better."

"Well, you fight magic with magic, or heavy iron beams if you have them," Bronach replied with a grin as she palmed a large piece of greyish-blue quartz. From where D was sitting he noted tiny blue spears littered all through the bottom of the stone. Apparently it was that inclusion that made it the odd blue.

D asked, "What are you planning?"

"What I can do at best is bind him within the city for a short time. Minutes at best. However, if he attacks a child . . ." she clapped her hands together and then snapped her fingers, "Bang, we can know about it and get there posthaste."

D nodded and replied, "A warding spell with an alarm to it."

"Aye. However, with what I have the best I can do is find the general vicinity that he's in, bugger it all," she sighed, rubbing her forehead.

D stood up and walked over to her. He picked up a glittering golden piece of quartz that reminded him of sunlight. He studied it then looked at her.

He asked, "What do you need? More crystals? I think there is an abandoned mine shaft near here."

"And various herbs and then I need time to sing the bloody spell," she answered, "Mainly, I need that Changeling brat off my back."

D nodded and replied, "Lets get started then."

She smiled, lighting up her face. "You know, this is the most cooperative you've been," she teased him lightly.

"At least I'm not impatient and handicap a city's main security system," D retorted lightly.

Bronach moved closer to him. Her indigo eyes searched his face. Then, suddenly, they lit up as her hand reached up and snatched his hat.

She placed his hat firmly on her head and stood up.

D stood up after her and rushed in her way. Irritably, he moved to take his hat back. She simply danced out of his way with a chuckle.

"Not so fast. I need citrine and clear. I'd prefer the citrine, but clear would do in a pinch," she told him with that damned lower lip curving invitingly.

D snatched his hat back and put it back on his head. He replied, "Fine." He headed for the door and she darted in front of him this time.

"Not milky. But clear quartz," she instructed winsomely.

D looked down at her and replied, "Fine."

Then she bounced on her toes.

Her lips were soft and warm as they lightly pressed into his chin. She smelled like lavender and magic. He could hear the soft thunder of blood rushing through her veins, blood that would be sweeter than any imagined.

Yet all he could focus on was her lower lip.

Delicate hands rested upon his shoulders as a pale face turned towards him. He watched as her tiny tongue swiftly moistened her lips. Then her hand smoothed away a lock of hair from the middle of his forehead.

"That was bothering me for a while," she confessed.

Indeed, he reasoned dryly as he looked at her. He bent his head forward and her hands moved from his shoulders to grasp his face. Before he could resist, her lips caressed lightly against his.

He returned the kiss ever so gently. His body was tense. What he really wanted to do was shove her against the wall and take all she had to offer, and then some. He wanted to strip her of her glamor and have her wild and herself.

His tongue met no resistance as she parted her mouth to him. In fact, hers darted out eagerly to meet his own. She made a tiny, whimpering cry as his left hand pressed against her lower back to guide her closer to him. She was warm, so very _very_warm.

She tasted tangy, like oranges and lemons. Fresh and bracing, and so very much herself. His fangs lengthened and throbbed in time with her heart beat. His right hand went up to the high collar of her silk shirt.

_All I'd have to do is rip . . ._

With a tiny growl he let her lips go. He lifted his head up and took deep breaths. The heat raged through him, wanting to take and to have.

Then, then oddly, he was filled with a strange sense of calm. He heard a soft singing, throaty and seductive. He closed his eyes as he relaxed.

"You know, it is good to lose control once in a while," Bronach said in a shaky voice, her breath coming in tiny pants as her small breasts heaved against his chest. She was trembling, and not from fear. Maybe a little fear, but somehow he was aware that she wasn't afraid of him.

He traced his right thumb over her lower lip and she shivered. Her eyes closed and her head rested against the wall. _So responsive, _he thought, not vaguely aware of the last time he'd been with a woman. Hundreds of years ago he reasoned, and never a human.

D looked down at her and managed to say, "We have work to do."

"Right. Work. Ciaran. The nasty bastard," Bronach chirped awkwardly, still not moving.

He smiled at her slightly and she beamed. He tucked a few loose strands behind her ear. He said, "Citrine or rock crystal."

"Right!" she said brightly, nodding eagerly.

He looked down at her and said, "Go cast your spell. I'll find you."

He started to head for the door. Behind him he heard her softly whisper to herself in Gaelic.

_"I will always wait._"

**_To Be Continued_**

****

**Author's Notes: **Dawn of the Dead has to be the cheesiest name for a necromancer ever in God's green creation. Part of this is because I am a major geek. Hell, I even own a shirt that reads Joss Whedon is My Master Now. (All hail to Joss Whedon!) The other part is that I have a very skewed sense of humor. I have all this seriousness running around with Ciaran stealing children's souls, D, and decided I needed to have something to lighten up the mood somewhat.

I'm also a huge gem geek too. Hence Bronach's pendent and crystals. The Mountain Blue Quartz was based loosely on Siberian Blue Quartz, which is a synthetic quartz that is the color of blue M&Ms. It's gorgeous. One of my favorite pendants is made out of it. So, with how fucked up D's world is then the mineral structure would have changed too slightly.

Or I'm just BSing my way out of this.

Also, be kind and review! Feed the muse. I like comments. Tell me what needs help and tell me what you like.

And I promise there will be porn! Really! Just . . . Bronach and D are sort of stubborn. Which is a GOOD thing I think.

So until later, and I'm reading _Vampire Hunter D: Raiser of Gales_! Yay, D's a hacker among other things! This amuses greatly.

Also, I'd like to thank Arismal and Psi Yamaneko for their thoughts and views on D.

Hopefully, I'm following the groundwork of the novels while keeping it in my own writing style. So, if you've read the books, tell me what you think. And damn the books are kinky.


	7. 6: A New Offering

**Disclaimer:**_Vampire Hunter D _is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

**Innocent Souls**

**_Chapter Six: A New Offering_**

**By: Elf**

Ciaran watched the town in distaste. There were hunters abound here. He couldn't fling out a shadow tendril without hitting a hunter of some sort.

"Look at 'em. Humans. Not good for anything other than eating," Richmond hissed from where he was crouched at Ciaran's side.

Ciaran smiled at his goblin servant and replied, "They have their uses. Their souls are quite powerful. Especially that of a child."

"Why do you want the Wild Hunt back anyway?" Richmond asked, huge eyes blinking owlishly.

The Dark Faerie tilted his head thoughtfully. He replied, "Because the humans have corrupted and killed this world for far too long. Radiation poisons things, mutating something beautiful beyond recognition. They rape and pillage the land without a second thought. Vampires cull the humans, but they are dying themselves, and in some ways they're even worse. Its time for the world to be recalled back to its Mother. Time for the Hunt to right the wrongs that man has created."

"Of course you'll lead it," Richmond snorted as he wiped his nose with a clawed hand.

Ciaran smiled and replied, "Of course. I'll be worshiped as a god. This is why I'm going to all of this trouble. I don't care about the humans nor the so called Nobility. I want the world righted so I can properly rule."

"And the Morrigan's Grace?" Richmond asked hungrily, his claws clacking together as he rubbed his hands.

Ciaran's lip curled as he saw the _dhampire_ leave Bronach. From his lofty perch he watched as the hunter got on his horse and rode out of the village of all things. Then he watched as Bronach began to walk the village.

He pulled a clear beryl orb out of his robes and peered through it like a spy glass. He saw Bronach walk into the very center of the town. A center a human couldn't concern, but a Faerie building a warding spell would. His tri-violet eyes narrowed as he watched her place a twin spire of dark smokey quartz there in the dirt.

"Where the hell is that half breed spawn of a coffin going?" Richmond asked as his sickly yellow eyes followed the form of the hunter.

Ciaran smirked as he watched Bronach singing. He turned away so he could watch the madly riding hunter. He closed his eyes and opened his senses in the direction to where the hunter was going.

He felt a steady, humming power, bright and shining there. He wasn't a fan of Earth Magics, shunning crystals and herbs for his true power over darkness. Yet any Faerie worth his weight in salt knew where to gather ingredients for spells, or could find them.

"So, Bronach, you sent your pet hunter to get supplies. Sadly he won't get back to you," Ciaran mused softly to himself.

Richmond grinned ferally at his master. He asked, "The imps and the ekings haven't gotten out since you stormed Blackmoure's castle. Shall we use them?"

Ciaran smirked as he remembered the imps overwhelming Blackmoure until he gave into his bloodlust. However, D wasn't as intimate with his father's nature as Blackmoure was. If anything, D repressed and controlled it with a truly extraordinary will.

Ciaran wanted to see that bloodthirsty nature out in the open. He wanted to see the hunter in his full glory. Because, in that moment he planned to take his soul and forego the tedium of going after all the children.

After all, what better to give to the Wild Hunt than the soul of Dracula's son as an offering?

D stooped over to avoid a stalactite. The tip of his hat still brushed against the low point as he nimbly made his way around the abandoned shaft. His eyes quickly accustomed to the gloom of the cave.

"Damn, it's dark in here," his Left Hand grumbled as D skirted around a stalagmite.

D ignored his parasite as he journeyed deeper into the cave. In the dark grey base rock he could make out patterns of shimmering white, pink, and pale metallic grey. He ran his right hand over it.

It was cool and slick under his fingertips. He ran his fingers over a milky vein before lowering his hand. He stopped and looked around thoughtfully.

He lifted up his left hand and stated, "Find me whole crystals. Not the veins."

"Man, this girl really has a bug up your butt if she's making you do all of this crap," the life form retorted as D spanned his hand across the cave. "I mean, you're getting her crystals and everything. Not to mention that kiss. Man, that was hot. As much as your fangs were throbbing, I'd bet that your c-mmmffhafgh!"

D stilled and scraped his palm against the cold, wet rock. There was a muffled yelp and he smiled to himself in satisfaction. "Find them," he reminded the creature within his hand.

"Find them, damn it D, you're a fucking slave driver," Left Hand grumbled as D began to span it in front of him again.

D looked around the abandoned shaft as they continued to go deeper. "Turn left," Left Hand said. D did and had to duck down to get into another room. His amulet scraped against the hard limestone wall as he pressed himself deeper into the crevice.

His eyes widened as he entered the tiny room. His keen eyes caught out the glittering and shimmering points of various crystals growing out of the ground. The very place throbbed and sparkled with energy. He felt it course through his veins and raise the hairs on his body on end.

"Found your crystals, or rather, your girlfriend's crystals," Left Hand said.

D grumbled, "Stop calling her that."

"Why? She's the closest thing to a girlfriend you've ever had. Hell, you even kissed her. Well, she kissed you first technically but damn that was hot. You know, she is rather tasty," Left Hand said.

D reached out and began to gather the almost glowing golden points. He grabbed a loose rock and broke it along the crystals' base to free them. Then he proceeded to stuff the points in a pouch in his belt. Flawless clear crystals followed their golden brethren moments later.

"Lets go," D said as he stood up and began to inch his way out of the hidden room.

His ears twitched. There was a faint sound of wings beating echoing throughout the cave. It grew louder and louder, almost deafening. Tiny chirps and squawks accompanied the wings.

D spun around to see hundreds of tiny glowing red eyes in the darkness. Fangs and claws flashed in and out of vision. Hundreds of tiny, winged and clawed creatures flew at D.

D took a stance and drew his sword. He tilted it so that the blade was across him as a barrier. Then he took off running into the creatures.

There were loud screams as he plowed through the things. He braced his sword with his left hand and guided it with his right. Tiny clawed hands went for his hair, coat and hat. They began to swarm at him.

He kept moving.

They surrounded him at once in a swarm. Hands grabbed at him. Sharp teeth nipped at his hands and face.

D spun with his blade slashing almost blindly. He bisected the winged imps as he began to make his way out of the cave. Under the sound of scathing wings and slashing claws D heard the familiar clacking of hooves.

Bigger than the clawed, pointed eared imps swarming him, more creatures appeared. From the waist up they were humanoid with pale, shimmering golden skin and matching hair. They had long, pointed ears, but coming from their heads were large horns that curved up in multiple points like a stag's. From the waist down they had the legs and body of deer. They bared upper and lower fangs as they charged at D.

He lowered his head and ran right through them. He heard tiny screams as his sword passed through some of them as he ran. He could smell their blood in the air. It was sour and stagnant smelling.

He saw the shimmer of sunlight ahead and jumped. He rolled on the sandy ground and stood back up from the cave's entrance. The imps and ekings swarmed out of the castle. They staggered once they hit the light, tiny hands shielding dark suited eyes.

D spun back around and charged at them. Claws and teeth managed to snare him, but he didn't dwell on the pain. He bounded into the air and began to avoid and attack.

Jump in, swipe the sword, swipe back. Again and again. His sword almost sang with each slash.

Soon enough, he was standing alone in the middle of a pile of demi-fey corpses. He shook the watery blood off of his blade before returning it to its sheath. As soon as he got back to the inn he'd have to clean both the blade and the sheath to keep it from gumming up.

He turned around to head back to his horse. He sighed when he saw what was left of it covered in a myriad of tiny bites and claw marks. He shook his head softly and turned towards the direction of the town.

The hot sun beat down upon him.

"Well, this is just great," Left Hand groused as D began to walk his way back into town.

Danny always thought that Sean was a practical leader, if a bit impatient at times. Besides, the redhead had an uncanny ability to see things before they happened and had intense gut instincts about things. With his foresight, Sean had managed to save the mercs of Batharoy many times in the past.

Right now Danny was following Sean into his apartment. Sean's blood red hair was in a disarray of curls as he kept running his hands through it. He kept pacing back and forth, hands tugging at the his hair as he looked for something.

Danny looked at the dark scroll work etched into his dark skin. He flexed his muscles and sighed. Whatever D had said was coming had Sean worked up into a lather.

"Iron, iron . . . Hey, Dan, got any iron?" Sean asked almost absently.

Danny shook his head and answered, "Nah, most of my stuff is tungsten carbide steel. Holds a better edge and has more weight behind it when you swing it. Better for killing dragons, Sean."

"Bloody hell, what about Thomson? Doesn't he do witches?" Sean reached under his bed and pulled out a thick chest. Danny knew for a fact that the heavy steel box held Sean's best weapons and some other odds and ends used for magic making.

Danny answered, "Thomson is in Ransylvania at the moment, doing business with the Langs."

"Static?" Sean asked, emerald eyes fixing on Danny's face.

Danny shrugged and said, "Static's still in that coma after running across that werewolf that tried to eat him."

"So who the fuck do we have available? Hard core badasses. Like yourself." Sean reached over and grabbed his lightest blanket from his bed. It wasn't uncommon to have multiple covers on a bed this time of year. Night could get positively frigid on the Frontier. Danny watched as Sean wrapped it around his hands and bent towards the box again.

Danny thought for a moment and answered, "Well, Bevins is here. He's the Weretiger Hunter you know. Garnet's in town for a spell and you know she's unbeatable with a whip. Tommy and Dougan are here too, the Mist Trappers. And we've got the Arachnid Men Hunters here too right now."

"Garnet knows spells, doesn't she? Precog and all of that right?" Danny frowned at the hopeful look on Sean's face as he lifted something gingerly from the box.

Danny asked, "Boss, don't mind me asking, sir, but what the hell has you hot and bothered like this?"

"We have an Unseelie Faerie with the urge to swipe the souls of all our kids," Sean answered as he stood up. In his hands he held a giant broad sword. The metal was dimmer and heavier than the tungsten carbide steel that Danny was use to working with. The blade was a dull greyish color with tiny flecks of something shinny in it.

Danny replied, "I thought you told D that we could handle it."

"Yeah, well, I lied to the _dhampire_ and the Faerie assassin with him. Can't let half breeds and strangers know I'm afraid, right?" Sean answered as he studied the sword's blade. The blanket was wrapped around the handle.

Danny asked, "What's the sword, Sean?"

"Cold iron. Deadly to all Fey, demi and high," Sean answered softly as he looked at it. His eyes dimmed and his skin grew waxy and pale, just like a vampire victim's.

Danny quietly asked, "Why ain't you touching it, Sean?"

Sean looked at him with now glassy green eyes. He held it with one hand around the blanket wrapped handle and he lifted his right hand towards the blade. He stilled and flinched. He took a deep breath and his eyes wavered shut. Then he placed his palm onto the blade.

The flesh hissed and popped as soon as it hit the metal. Steam and smoke rose up from between the blade and his hand. He moved his hand and threw the sword on the bed. He cradled his injured hand to his chest. His skin regained its normal color and his eyes burned like fine emeralds once more as he looked at Danny.

He answered, "That's why, Dan."

"Holy shit," Danny breathed as he bent down to touch the blade, "You're one of them."

Sean winched as he looked at his hand. He held it out for Danny to inspect it. Danny frowned. It was purple and a shockingly blueish-white color, not the striking red he'd expected. "Looks like frostbite," he mumbled.

"And I'm just a quarter Faerie, Danny. With pure bloods like that banshee and that Unseelie fucker it strips their powers as well. Do what I just did to one of them and they'd faint from it," Sean answered grimly, "Just getting that close to that bastard is gonna be the problem. Hense why I need all of our firepower."

Danny asked, "I thought you said your father was a Pixie Hunter?"

"Was. And they ain't true pixies. Not by the Fey definition. They're creatures created by the Nobility for whatever fucking reason. This is the real deal," Sean answered as he looked out his window.

Danny turned as well. Down in the street he saw a tall woman dressed in black, her long golden hair braided behind her. Bronach, the banshee who burst through the force shield like it was nothing. He watched as she placed something down in the middle of the street and tilted her head up to the sky.

"What the hell is she doing?" Danny asked softly.

Sean looked down and answered, "Protecting our youngins."

Bronach frowned at the sun. She then frowned at the three citrine crystals remaining in her hands. She rubbed her nose and looked at the point she just had put down.

She opened up her bag. It held crystals, candles, herbs, and other spell supplies. She had put black candles in every corner of the octagon that made up the city's perimeter. Then she had put one in the center of the city. Finally she had formed a circle between the center and the perimeter with yellow candles. The black was for protection and the yellow stood for repelling and dispelling negative energy.

She'd put alternating smokey quartz and black tourmaline crystals along with the black candles around the edge of the city. In a circle around the candle in the center of the city there was a circle of clear quartz. Now she was walking the final circle and was almost out of the citrine crystals.

She sighed as she placed two of her remaining crystals in her bag. She palmed the last one, a point as long as her middle finger and just as wide. She knelt beside a yellow candle that burned with an everlasting flame. A Seelie spell that she had mastered. It could withstand most of Ciaran's shadows, and hopefully enough flames could weaken them. Or so she theorized.

Still, she was a few crystals short and D was taking far too long.

She placed the crystal behind the candle so it could reflect the candlelight. Then she looked at the sky with a worried frown. She thought, _Come now D, it's taking you far too long for a simple errand._

The sun was merciless D decided. An unrelenting, unfeeling thing that offered death to some and life to others. Right now it beat down on him, soaking through his clothing and hat. He was even sweating a slight bit, and it grew worse with each step.

"You're gonna need to get covered, D," Left Hand warned.

D sighed, "I know."

"How much longer to Batharoy?" Left Hand asked.

D answered, "I'm not sure. Being on foot is different than horseback and running . . ." He shielded his eyes with his right hand and looked out into the desert. He saw the sky meet the earth and shimmer with the joining. It stretched out forever.

He was getting closer to the town, but he had to admit his horse was much faster than him on foot. Running with this amount of sun was out of the question. He would succumb to the sun stoke too easily and too quickly. Besides, there was no safe place to burry himself incase he got that desperate.

He felt the hairs on the back of his arms and neck rise. He felt the cool throb of Ciaran's power. He drew his blade and spun around as the Faerie showed himself.

"Well, fuck, D," Left Hand cursed as D took a stance.

Ciaran's shroud hovered over the sand as he stepped closer to D. D noticed his feet made no footprints on the sand as he walked. Even the sunlight seemed to dim around Ciaran, the very light around him darker, just like another cloak.

"I take it you sent the elkings and the imps after me," D stated softly.

Ciaran laughed, a light lilting sound. He nodded as he flounced towards D. D drew back, watching the other man ever carefully.

"Indeed, and I'm surprised you managed to take them all out in such a crowded space. Even Blackthorn ran from them when I attacked him so I could get to his son," Ciaran replied with a grin.

D's eyes narrowed right before he attacked.

He darted forward with his blade pointed out towards Ciaran. The Faerie jumped into the air to avoid getting impaled. D twisted back and caught the blade against Ciaran's cloak.

The Faerie hissed and flung his cape outwards like wings. The sunlight quickly cast shadows against the sand from the fabric and his tri-ringed violet eyes glowed. D sprung back as the shadow tendrils shot out after him.

He swung his blade and cut right through them. He bounced nimbly on his toes before jumping again. Ciaran held out his hand and shadows whirled to form something in it. Within moments, he was holding a rapier created out of nothing but darkness.

He slashed at D. D parried the clean ark and swung his blade to catch Ciaran down low. The Faerie's blade caught against D's sword just like any other metal blade would. Ciaran reached out and tried to cuff D's ear. D let go of his sword with his right hand to sweep Ciaran's hand away at the wrist, push it down, and lock it against his own body, putting them inches away from each other.

Ciaran's eyes sparkled as they were locked together. D slammed his head against Ciaran's, sending the Faerie staggering back. D rushed forward with his blade drawn. He heft it up and began to bring it down against Ciaran's throat.

Ciaran shout out his free hand and clinched it into a fist. Then he jerked it back towards his own body as if he was pulling something. D felt something cool wrap around his ankles and jerk his feet together. It jerked back hard and he fell with it.

Breathing hard, Ciaran stood up as more shadow tendrils wrapped themselves around D. D let his sword drop to the ground. He felt his Left Hand open its mouth greedily as it began to suck the tendrils into itself.

Within moments, D was free. He jumped out of the remaining tendrils' way and grabbed his sword. He sprang to his feet and met Ciaran head on.

Ciaran grimaced as he managed to block D's blade with his own. D noted the sweat trickling down the Faerie's face. That Ciaran wasn't glowing like moonlight now. The sun beat down on them mercilessly.

"The sun is as much as your ally as it is mine," D growled as he kicked Ciaran in the stomach.

Ciaran stumbled back and darted back even more. He flung off his shroud and wiped his forehead off with the back of his arm. Under his cloak he was wearing leather pants, boots, and a black frock coat. He shook his knee length hair out of his face as he continued to move back from D.

D noted his lips were rapidly moving. Not giving Ciaran the chance to cast a spell, D charged at him. Ciaran laughed and his voice rang out into the sunlit sky.

"_And I bring his blood to me! I bind it too me! Come to me, Life! Bring and bind his blood to me!_"

D choked and collapsed. His blood was burning in his veins. He felt something hot run from his eyes and then his nose. Soon it trickled from his ear.

He gagged and blood bubbled up from his mouth and hit the white sand. His body convulsed, retching more blood. He clutched at the sand as he trembled. The pain was incredible as his blood was being forced out of his body in any way it could find. His arteries and veins burned like someone had injected him with hot acid. His vision was blurring as he expelled more blood.

Ciaran drew his cloak and wrapped it about him again. D looked up at him as blood continued to trickle in any means from his body. He gagged again.

Ciaran drew out a glowing orb and held it above D's head.

He was smirking as he bent over the _dhampire_ The glowing orb pulsed as he lowered it towards D. Ciaran's voice was almost pleasant as he said, "Now, D, let me have your soul."

He held the glowing orb above D's head and began to chant in ancient Gaelic.

**_To Be Continued!_**

**Author's Notes: **Oh, I am a little bitch aren't I? I left you at a cliffhanger and everything!


	8. 7: Curse Breaking and Temptaions

**Disclaimer:**_Vampire Hunter D _is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

**Innocent Souls**

**_Chapter Seven: Curse Breaking and Temptations_**

**By: Elf**

"Bloody hell," Bronach muttered as she looked at the last three yellow candles without crystals. She had to stand with them so that the spell wouldn't be broken. Until she had those three citrine pieces, her spell was moot.

So she was standing in her circle with her arms held out so she could charge it herself. She felt the magic racing through her and finishing the circle. It was trembling and eager, sending lightning currents through her.

_Come on now, D, shouldn't take you this long for a bloody simple errand, _she thought as she blew a lock of hair out of her eyes in annoyance. The mine wasn't that far away from the town, at least not on horse back. From what she could feel it would have what she needed in spades. However, D was still not here.

Not that she was worried or anything. Of course not. D was probably more capable to handle Ciaran than she was, as loathe as she was to admit it of course. Still, he was gone for too bloody long.

And she couldn't bloody move either.

In the corner of her eye she could see the huge black man with the tattoos and the purple Mohawk approach her. The one who had known who D was when she said his name aloud. Probably a Dragon Hunter from the look of him. He was a big man, mostly muscles yet she had a feeling he could get his bulk moving when he had to.

"Miss?" he said as he stood at her side, "What are you doing?"

Bronach gave him a withering glance as she answered, "I'm holding the sodding spell together."

"Where's D?" he asked with a frown.

Straight ahead she saw the redheaded Sean approaching. The Changeling was Seelie marked with his hair and eyes as bright as they were. He frowned as he looked at her circle.

"You're holding it closed," he mused as he lifted his hand towards her.

Bronach glared and snapped, "Of course I'm holding it closed, you fool. I dinna have the rest of the crystals I need and D hasn't shown up yet with what I told him to get!"

"Citrine to repel negativity and to stand for light," Sean mused.

The Mohawked Dragon Hunter asked, "Got any, Sean?"

"No, but I'd bet that Garnet has some at her place, Danny," Sean answered as his emerald eyes flickered to Bronach.

Danny said, "I'm Danny, local Greater Dragon Hunter."

"Figured as much, you're huge," Bronach replied with a grin, "I'm Bronach of the Morrigan's Grace. I'd shake your hand, but I'm holding this up at the moment."

Sean asked her, "How long has the _dhampire_been gone?"

"His name is D. You wouldn't like it if I called you Changeling over and over again, would you?" Bronach retorted with a glare.

Sean flushed and answered, "No, of course not. How long has D been gone?"

"Almost two hours," Bronach said grimly, "Far too long for a simple errand."

Danny piped up, "Unless that fucker attacked him."

"It's broad daylight in the desert. His powers would be really weak here," Bronach replied, "He wouldn't be stupid enough to attack D now."

Sean gave Bronach a steady look and said, "D's not exactly at full power either. It's broad daylight in the desert, just like you pointed out."

"They'd both be at a disadvantage," Danny mused with a frown, "Yet both will be at their full potential at night."

Bronach cursed, "_Cach_! He'd have to know other spells if he's a soul stealer!"

"Like what?" Danny asked.

Sean gave his friend a grim look and answered, "You don't wanna know, pal, you don't want to know at all." Then he turned to Bronach and said, "I've got a cycle. I could bring him back super quick. Or we just could be overreacting."

Bronach licked her lips. They were still a bit swollen from the kiss just hours ago. She could still smell him on her skin, like rain drops and lilies.

_I will always wait . . ._

"_Cach_," she grumbled as she looked at her circle. _Things were so much easier when I didn't feel. Ciaran, you won't take him. I won't allow it. I'd die first._

Sean asked her, "Bronach?"

"Do it and make haste," she answered, eyes narrowing, "Because I need those bloody crystals."

Underneath the pain of having his blood forcibly expelled from his body, D felt something cold and sucking within _him_. From the very core of his being. His whole essence being extracted and torn from him.

He heard nothing save his own heart frantically beating in his ears. He gripped the sand as his blood continued to spill onto it. His blood filled eyes looked up to see the glowing orb being held above his head.

He heard Ciaran chanting furiously, a sly grin on his features.

He felt _rip_ through him. Felt his soul being torn from his body. It was cold and hot at the same time. Burning and freezing him as it was torn from his flesh.

He finally let lose a snarl from the agony.

"D! Damn it D, do something or we're both screwed!" Left Hand shouted, his voice muffled from the sand.

D snarled and focused on the pain. He let it wash over him and overwhelm him. He let his shields and his well placed control down around him. His vision cleared as his fangs lengthened and throbbed.

With a bestial snarl, D was on his feet and he darted away from Ciaran. He picked up his sword and tossed it right at Ciaran's wrist. The blade went through and blood squirted out like glowing rubies from Ciaran's sickly moonlit skin.

The Faerie screamed as his soul orb fell to the ground. He wrenched the sword out of his wrist as D managed to stay on his feet. Yet the _dhampire_ wavered for moments on end and his vision blurred. His fangs retracted immediately as he glared at Ciaran.

Ciaran cradled his damaged hand and glared at D. Blood continued to pour through his fingertips, mingling with D's own upon the sand. The soul orb glowed dimly on the ground.

D focused on it and lunged for it. Ciaran smirked and snaked weak shadows out to it. It wrapped around the glowing orb and brought it back to him. Then he entreated his shadow tendrils to bring D's sword to him. He smirked as he held the sword at D and folded himself within his cloak.

"I believe we're at a stalemate again, Hunter D, but I think I'll let the sunlight finish you off," he taunted before vanishing right before D's eyes.

D staggered for a moment, drawing his breath. Then he proceeded to collapse from the severe blood loss Ciaran's curse dealt him. He managed to look up towards the horizon.

The town was just ahead. He could feel and sense it. _I must get back. Ciaran must be stopped . . . And he won't touch her._

Ever so slowly, he rose up once again.

Sean kept his head low. Despite the tinted goggles he was wearing, the sand still whipped at his face as the cycle darted through the sand. Under the yellowish tent of the goggles Sean could make out the faint shape of a tall male dressed in a flowing duster on the horizon.

Save the figure wasn't doing too good. He kept wobbling and wavering, stopping every few breaths to straighten himself. His steps were dragging and slow. Defiantly not the cat like grace Sean had seen the hunter exhibit just mere hours ago.

Sean kicked down on the accelerator and the bike shot ahead. The warm air whipped around him as he jetted to his objective. He slammed on the brakes, threw his weight to the side and kicked his foot into the sand.

D blinked as Sean skidded to a stop mere inches in front of him. Sean blinked at the dark wetness seeping from the _dhampire's_ eyes, nose, ears, and still trickling down his mouth. With the goggle's tint the liquid appeared black, no color to concern it. Yet Sean knew the sharp, metallic tang of blood when he smelled it.

He held out his hand to D as he kicked the kick stand into place. He let the engine idle. If Ciaran was still around, Sean wanted to get the hell out of there, Changeling or not.

D looked at him with bleeding eyes. His mouth was set in a grim line as he looked at Sean. Sean shouted over the roar of the engine, "Come on, damn it, we're gonna get the hell out of here!"

He shook his hand for emphasis. D stared at it for a moment before looking back at him. His jaw tightened. Sean swallowed at all the blood.

His grandmother told him about curses like these. Curses that would will a person's blood out of their body towards the person summoning it. The blood would escape in any manner possible: eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and any other body part that it found nice enough to burst out of. Sort of like Hemorrhagic Fever by way of magic.

"Come on, damn it, Hunter. I don't got all fucking day," he snapped before swallowing.

D looked down at him and his face became even more unreadable. Then he settled down on the bike. Sean felt the tires sink a bit into the sand and he looked back at D.

While Sean had Faerie blood in his veins, it was diluted. It made him faster and gave him better senses than a normal type, so that was why he became a hunter. He was damn good at it too, but when his Fey kin came a calling, he knew exactly when to step down.

D muttered as Sean kicked the cycle into gear again.

"Bronach's crystals are in my belt."

Sean blinked as he rushed out back towards town again. He replied, "I'll get em to her."

Bronach closed her eyes and let the spell wash over her. She felt it hum with in her, a song like the ones she sang to cast spells. Her power, unlike Ciaran's, was in her voice. Hence all of her spells and wards had a faint, musical quality to it. If someone listened closely, her wards sounded like someone playing a haunting tune on a violin.

The sound of a motorcycle speeding close broke her out of her revere.

Her eyes flew open to see Sean riding at her in a mad dash. The dark green scarf he used to cover his face had almost whipped free in the breeze. His eyes gleamed like peridots under the yellow goggles. He threw up his hand as he slid his cycle to a stop right in front of her. He let the engine idle as he stared at her.

"Finish the ward and come on," he snapped.

Her heart leapt suddenly into her throat. It was pounding in her ears as she stared at the Changeling. He stared at her before dismounting and putting the remaining crystals into place. He grabbed her out of the spell and she heard a soft popping sound as it set.

She stared at him and asked, "What happened to D?" She winched at the way her voice cracked. She was shaking as she looked at Sean. Sean shoved her towards the bike and she straddled it behind him.

She held onto the seat as he revved up the engine and shot back to the inn they were staying at. Locks of her hair were whipped loose from her braid as they rode. She shielded her eyes as Sean tore through his town, causing old men and women to yell at him and shake their fists. Yet it still wasn't fast enough.

Her fingers dug into the soft leather of the seat. She bit her lip. Her eyes watered as they rode.

The inn came into view. Sean spun the bike to the side as he gripped the break. The cycle slid to a stop but Bronach jumped off before it did. She was already half way to her room when she heard Sean behind her.

She heard the nasal voice of D's Life Force Regenerator through the door of their room. He was saying, "D, this isn't enough. Yeah, you have all four Elements but . . . I don't know what sort of curse he cast on you but . . ."

"Keep trying. We can get more," D's voice was strained and tense.

"Bronach!" Sean's voice boomed from the hallway.

She turned to face him and asked, "What happened?"

"Sort of like the magical equivalent to Hemorrhagic Fever. He's bleeding out," Sean answered between gasps of air. He was heading towards their room as well.

Bronach put a hand on his chest. He stared at her. She gave him a firm look.

She said, "You'll be in my way when I try to break the curse. You best go back and watch for Ciaran or any thing he has at his beck and call."

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" he asked her softly.

She grinned and replied, "I have all I need right here."

With that, she turned and walked into the room. She shut and locked the door behind her. She took a deep breath before turning to face D.

"You didn't have to come in here," he said softly as she walked over to him.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart was thundering in her ears and she was still shaking. He was covered in blood. He was still crying his blood and his clothing was soaked with it. Had he been human, he would have been dead within the first few moments after Ciaran cursed him. Had he been Faerie, he would have been unconscious and then comatose until someone broke the curse.

She looked at the bowl of water, lit candle, pile of sand, and the open window on the table. He was sitting at the table, looking up at her. His Left Hand was facing palm up towards the four offerings. She pressed her lips together as hot tears stung her eyes while a stream of blood trickled from his left eye.

"Lord and Lady," she breathed as she rushed over to him. She reached her hands out to him and whimpered when her hands touched hair wet with blood. He reached out his right hand and gently grabbed her wrist.

D explained, "He tried to take my soul after he cursed me. It was like my body was trying to expel all of my blood at once."

"The Blood Bring Bind," she explained softly as she looked at him, "And you'll keep bleeding out, no matter what your Life Force Regenerator does. You'll keep healing yet the more you'll heal the more you'll bleed out."

He replied, "Until the curse is broken."

"Exactly," she said with a nod.

She looked down at her wrist. His long, alabaster fingers were still wrapped around it. His skin was startlingly cold. Not the overwhelming warmth earlier when they kissed.

He coughed softly, blood bubbling on his lips. His Left Hand asked, "Well, sweetheart, can you break this damned curse?"

"I can try," she answered softly as she studied D's face.

D's thumb rubbed a circle around her wrist and her pulse quickened even more. His dark eyes looked firmly into hers and she swallowed. Then his eyes drifted to the line of her throat where the pulse was beating. His eyes darkened and began to glow like rubies. He clinched his mouth and looked away.

She reached out and touched his bloody cheek. She gently guided his face back towards her again. His eyes opened and they were dark and endless again. Except instead of the serious sadness she had been accustomed to seeing, there was a hunger and a need lurking in those night dark depths.

She moved closer to him and leaned so that her forehead was touching his. She took a deep breath and the coppery scent of blood filled her nostrils. She clinched her jaw as she looked into D's eyes.

"You can do this," he said softly, his voice barely audible.

She closed her eyes and requested, "Be quiet. I need to listen for the curse."

While her magic had a musical quality to it that anyone could hear, practitioner, sensitive, or not, Bronach heard magic as music. She listened to the slow, erratic beat of D's heart as he fought the curse, the soft breathing, she could feel his chest rising up and down with each breath. She heard the growl of hunger from his vampiric half, and the soft, heady sighs of need from his human half. She concentrated, listened harder, until she could hear _it._

She cursed softly as she jerked in response. Nails on a chalk board. Loud static. Sirens blaring warnings. A skipped cord, a missed key, painful and grating.

She took another breath. She thought for a moment, searching for just the right key. Then she let loose with all of her magical know-how, power, and talent. She sang softly, hauntingly, her voice filling the room.

She could hear the curse growing louder in protest. She felt D jerk in response. She gripped his shoulders and willed him, _Just hold on. Hold on. I have you, I just need you to hold on to me and listen._

She reached a high note. The grating sound stopped. She sang softer now, soothing away the curse. She stopped singing and listened. D's breathing, heartbeat, and his inner self were back to normal again.

For a moment.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. She noted that her glamor had slipped and she was glowing brightly like moonlight. He reached out. One arm wrapped around her face while the other pressed at the middle of her back.

He stood up and brought her with her. Her face searched his and he bent down towards her. She tilted her face up towards his moved one hand to tangle in his bloody hair while the other arm wrapped around his shoulders. They moved at the same time and when their lips touched Bronach tasted blood and Ciaran's dark magic left over from the curse.

Still, she kissed him furiously. Knowing what was to come and craving it. She shivered in anticipation as her tongue darted over his lips.

D growled quietly and lowered her to the floor. Her legs cushioned his body as he loomed before her. He broke the kiss to move his lips down her cheek and to her throat. She tilted her head back and gripped him tightly.

Then, he fell still.

"D?" she asked, blinking up at him.

He gave her a tiny, half smile and looked down at her with his too pale and blood streaked features. There was no quip from his Left Hand, and for that she was thankful. He rose up, bringing her up with him.

"No, not like this," he said softly, "You don't even know what you're offering."

Bronach glared at him and squared her shoulders. She retorted, "I'm offering you my sodding blood and and . . ."

"What else?" he demanded.

She stared at him and answered, "My virtue."

"You don't want to give that to the likes of me," D said in dismissal.

She glared and spat, "I'd rather be with you than have Ciaran rape me!"

"I'd hurt you without meaning to, Bronach. Thank you for breaking the curse, but I need to be left alone," he said as he headed towards the bathroom.

She bristled as her heart thundered in her ears. She snapped, "Fine, I'll leave you alone to your Left Hand and I hope he bites your bits off!"

Then she spun out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

"Wow, D, you sure know how to make friends and influence people," Left Hand chortled as D locked the bathroom door behind him. He waited until he heard Bronach's angry footsteps leave the floor that they were on. Then he began to take off his bloody clothing.

His vision doubled for a moment as his head swam. He could still taste her mingled with his blood. She had been eager and glowing. Just as he had wanted earlier.

He replied, "It wouldn't be fair to her if I did sleep with her like that. I'd hurt her, Faerie or not."

"She seems like she was enjoying it to me, D. Sides, I think she's one that can take care of herself," Left Hand said.

D reached for his belt and opened one of the pouches. He drew out one of the dark red pills and picked up the plastic cup beside the sink. He turned the water on hot and broke the pill into the tepid water. It turned bright red and smelled remarkably like blood.

He downed it in almost one swallow. He felt his strength return somewhat and his vision clear. He lifted himself to his full height and looked at his blood streaked reflection in the mirror.

He'd never been overly concerned with his appearance, but right now he did look frightful. He licked blood off of his lips and more of his color, as little as it was, return. _I shouldn't take a virgin covered in blood, _he thought as he looked into his reflection's eyes.

"I don't think she would have minded too much," Left Hand snorted, as if he was reading D's thoughts once again.

D looked down at the wrinkled face in his palm and replied, "Still, it wouldn't be right. For her, and for me."

"Oh, so you do like her," Left Hand taunted with a snicker.

D stepped into the shower stall and silenced his parasite by using him to turn on the water. He stood under the hot spray, letting all the blood rinse off of him. He grabbed the soap left by the inn and began to lather himself.

_Bronach__ glared at him and squared her shoulders. She retorted, "I'm offering you my sodding blood and and . . ."_

_"What else?" he demanded._

_She stared at with those violet ringed indigo eyes and answered, "My virtue." D could smell her, like lavender, ozone and the musk of arousal. She had gripped him and offered herself willingly, knowing exactly what he was and showed no fear._

_Yet her words stung, but then again, he had hurt her himself._

He stood under the spray of water again and rinsed off. He ran his right hand through his hair to make sure the water saturated the thick black waves. He rested his head against the tiles as he set strict controls on his body. Yet the memory of the feel of her glowing and wild under him was almostmore than his strict control could bear.

As soon as he was clean he turned the water off. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist as he took another to squeeze excess water out of his hair. In the other room he could hear the steady heart beat of a woman. Even under the smell of hot water, soap, and his bloody clothing, he could make out the lavender and ozone scent that was Bronach.

He tousled his hair with the towel one last time before walking back into the bedroom. Bronach was sitting on the bed. She looked up at him and there were tiny smears of his blood on her hands and her face, probably even her hair.

He wanted to pull the silk cord that held the braid and run his fingers through it. He wanted to see it pool like sunlight around her. She had placed her glamor up around her again. Her now indigo eyes looked up at him, still angry and burning.

He waited for the sarcastic, biting retort.

Instead she stood up and headed for the bathroom. She snorted, "You had better left some hot water." She disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the sink running, and not the shower.

Moments later, Bronach emerged with her face and hands clean. A lock of her blond hair fell into her face as she sat back down on the bed. She folded her arms over her small breasts and glared up at him.

"I'm not some human farm girl throwing myself at you. I know exactly what you are and what you can do. Yet you're D and I can easily take care of myself," she said stubbornly.

He moved over to her and sat beside her. He reached out and took her hand. She blinked up at him and searched him, her eyes flickering down her body. She flushed for a moment before looking up at him.

She quipped, "You are easier to be mad at when you're fully clothed."

He could feel her blood racing, making her grow warmer. He could smell her nervous arousal. Yes, she was bold, but then she was also untried. Which would make anything that happened interesting to say the least.

He brushed his thumb over her wrist and she shivered like she had done earlier. She was responsive, especially along her pulse points. He had a feeling that if he drew blood that it would drive her even more insane.

D looked deep into her eyes and asked, "Do you know what you're offering?"

"Very much so," she answered softly, "And you canna hurt me." Her lilt and accent were becoming deeper and more pronounced.

He then asked, "Well, what do _you_ want, Bronach? And don't play games, it wouldn't be fair to us."

**_To Be Continued!_**

**Author's Notes: **Yes, yes, I am an evil, _evil_ little bitch. Yet another cliffhanger, and even a more interesting part than with Ciaran trying to steal D's soul. Next chapter you shall be rewarded with the promise of a lemon scene. Finally. Took long enough for them to get to it, didn't it?

Anyway, I like to thank all my reviewers. I'm sorry that there was such a gap between chapters. Real life and a con got in the way.

Also, I'm going more towards the novels' interpretation of D than the two movies. You know, where he almost sleeps with Doris and is nervous around Lina. And, he, you know, talks.

I know one reviewer was interested in my novel. If you'd like to take a look at the first chapter, go to: http/ and if you want to see who's basically the starter for Bronach go to: http/ and http/ thank you all for your support. Feed the muse and review!


	9. 8: Gifts From the Heart

**Disclaimer: **_Vampire Hunter D _is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

**Warning: **This chapter includes intense sexual content. If you are underage, please turn back now. I'm not responsible for your actions, so read with caution. Reader Digression Advised.

**Innocent Souls**

_**Chapter Eight: Gifts Of The Heart**_

**By: Elf**

"Well, what do _you_ want, Bronach? And don't play games, it wouldn't be fair to us." 

_Lord and Lady, he's utterly gorgeous, isn't he? Not even the Lady herself could craft a better male. _Bronach's eyes met D's dark ones and she swallowed. Her blood was racing and her heart was pounding. She knew D was aware of this physical change, but he simply looked at her as his thumb still traced maddening circles around her wrist.

She studied him, her breath catching in awe as she did. His glossy raven hair was still damp from the shower, curling around his shoulders and cascading down the broad expanse of his white shoulders. She licked her lips as she took note of the sleek, powerfully sculpted muscles of his form and where a line of fine, dark hairs started at his navel and traveled under the towel wrapped around his waist.

She reached up her free hand and lightly brushed it over his upper arm. His skin was like fine marble, as flawless as any Faerie she'd seen at court, perhaps even more so. Each inch of him was perfection; he was some ancient death god coming to court a Faerie maiden.

She looked at his face. His sinfully long lashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked slowly. She rather liked the perfect, sharp, lean line of his jaw and his cheek bones were high and sharp. Yet his mouth was wide and graceful with a bit of a sultry sulk to it. His wavy black hair cascading down the ivory perfection of his face was the needed touch to all of this male beauty.

_Well, what do you want, Bronach?_

She lifted her eyes to meet his. Her cheeks flushed as she licked her lips. She turned to face him better and he studied her.

He had asked her what she wanted. None of the seducing Faeries in either court had granted her that courtesy. They wanted and promised pleasure beyond her wildest dreams if she yielded. Besides, she had felt nothing for them. They saw her as a prize to be won, while D suffered the Blood Bring Bind Curse to bring her a few scant crystals to help save children he never met before.

She could let go around him. She didn't have to be the Morrigan's Grace here and he didn't have to be the great Vampire Hunter D here either. They were just D and Bronach, two ancient, lonely beings who had seen and done too much without compensation. She was afraid of letting someone in, and he was afraid of hurting others.

Yet he couldn't hurt her, at least not in a way that she wouldn't enjoy. And D wouldn't use her, not like the denizens of the Courts. She had a feeling he'd treat what she was offering as a sacred gift, and that was why he was warning her.

She answered his question by leaning forward and framing his angular face in her hands. She smiled at him before closing her eyes. Then she tilted her lips towards his.

Their lips softly met and she smiled inwardly. They kissed softly with mere brushes of lips as D's free hand grasped her braid. She felt him untie the ribbon holding the ends together and pull it from her hair. His tongue flickered against her mouth seeking entrance as his hand moved to the top of her head where the braid started.

She parted her lips for him and her tongue brushed out to meet his. The kiss deepened, became more intenser and hungrier. He let go of her wrist to wrap that arm around her waist and pull her closer. His other hand gently brushed through the unwoven hair.

Bronach moved one of her hands from his face so she could wrap her arm around his neck. She gasped against his lips as he massaged her hair free and entangled his long fingers into it. D ended the kiss and she looked up at him breathlessly.

His fingers still played in her hair as he studied her. He asked, "Is this what you want? We can stop now, before its too late."

There was an ominous note of warning in his voice. She licked her kiss swollen lips as she caught her breath. His dark eyes were glowing slightly, a faint blue like fine sapphires. This close she could tell his eyes were blue. A blue so dark they were the color of the midnight sky. It was as if D was made of ivory, jet, and sapphires.

"If you stop now, I'll run you through with your own sword," Bronach replied breathlessly.

Then D frowned. His hand was still playing with her hair, almost a compulsion. She stroked his cheek and softly asked, "What is it?"

"Ciaran stole my sword," he answered softly, "Again."

Bronach rose up to kiss his forehead and D pulled her close. He rested his head on top of hers. He was warm as his arms wrapped around her tightly. He turned so he could kiss the crown of her head and she smiled. She could hear the steady beat of his heart under his ears. She took a deep breath. She smelled lilies and raindrops. And he was warm, so very warm and strong.

She looked up at D's face and said, "Ciaran is a right bastard and I want to punish him soundly."

That actually earned her something of a light laugh. She beamed up at him and he looked down at her. One hand still stroking her hair, the other reached out and tapped her nose almost playfully. She giggled and wrinkled her nose at him.

"I almost feel sorry for him," D replied softly as he lowered his head down to hers again.

She grinned and said, "Well, that's right. Because I'm a dangerous wicked Faerie with a shrill temper and an even shriller voice."

D lightly kissed her and she moved to intensify the kiss. Her hands became restless, moving from his face to touch the satiny smoothness of D's skin. Her tongue flicked against a fang and D growled against her lips. She ran her hands up and down the powerful lines of his back and continued to kiss him as if she could devour him whole.

"You're impatient," D all but growled at her.

She smiled winsomely at him and replied, "Well, you shouldn't look so bloody tempting with your towel and your hair . . ."

Their lips met again. Save this time D ran kisses from her mouth down her chin, cheek, jaw line to nuzzle at her throat. She gasped as he placed feather light kisses on the pulsating artery he found there. He finally let go of her hair to move to the buttons of her shirt.

As he ran kisses down her throat to her collar bone, he began to unbutton the silk shirt she was wearing. With each inch of skin exposed, D skimmed his fingers over it. Her breath caught with each button until he pulled the shirt out of the black jeans she was wearing. D carefully moved his hands up to her shoulders and grasped the shirt. He slowly slid it down her arms and she wiggled to move him along.

She was bare to his gaze. Her small breasts rose and fell with each breath. She gripped the sheets and bit her lip. He smiled at her, a real smile that was so beautiful her breath caught in her throat. He reached out and lifted the crow pendent that she always wore.

"You serve your Lady well," D said as he lightly tapped the iolite within the crow's beak.

Bronach gripped his hand and gave him an earnest look. She whispered, "You can take it off."

"Are you sure?" he asked softly as he lowered the stone back onto her chest.

She nodded and squeezed his hand again. He kissed her forehead as he lifted the chain and undid the clasp. He collected the pendent and chain in his palm and noiselessly laid it down on the dresser beside the bed.

Then he turned his head back to her. He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. She lifted her hands and returned the gesture.

She gasped as she ran her fingers through the long, wet hair that felt like raw silk between her fingertips. Then to have that hair foam and wave along that ivory skin in such a contrast was almost too much for her to bare. "Lord and Lady, you're beautiful," she murmured softly as she gazed at him in awe.

D was thinking the same thing about Bronach. He reached out and fingered a lock of her golden hair. He ran his hand down it and let it go. She was still gazing at him, her indigo eyes flickering from his face to trail down his chest and to where the line of dark hair ran from his navel to disappear under his towel. Her cheeks flushed as her gaze focused there.

He bent forward and whispered, "Drop your glamour."

Indigo eyes blinked up at him as she breathlessly asked, "What?"

He ran his fingers through the silken fall of her hair. He bent forward and brushed his lips against her ear. She shivered against him and her grip tightened in his hair.

"Drop your glamour," he whispered in her ear.

He watched as her ear lengthened and tapered at the end. Her skin grew paler and regained its shimmering luminescence. He traced the tip of her ear with his lips. She trembled and gasped. When his tongue lightly flickered against her ear she moaned and leaned against him.

"Faerie ears are very sensitive," she explained in a shivering voice.

D began to gently kiss the point of her ear, tracing his lips down to suck at her lobe. Her lavender scent, the feel of her warm body pressed against him, her tremors at his touch, and her tiny gasps were flooding his senses. He tugged lightly on the point of her ear with his teeth, careful not to catch them with his fangs.

She cried out and arched towards him at that. D moved his right hand down her body to lightly cup her left breast. The small orb fit easily in his palm as he simply held her. He moved so he could tease Bronach's other ear.

Her body trembled at the first pass of his lips against the point of her ear. She leaned towards him with a tiny gasp when he lightly nipped at the point. "Oh, Lord and Lady," she whispered as her hands grasped his shoulders.

D grinned ever so slightly as he trailed his lips from her ear down the glowing column of her throat. He froze at the sight of veins like sapphires and turquoise pulsing beneath her skin. He felt her pulse thundering under his lips. He could almost taste her and his mouth began to open on its own accord. His tongue flickered out to the vulnerable area and again Bronach gasped.

"Do it," she whispered, pleading with a thick voice.

D dropped his face from her throat to press into her shoulder. He held her tightly. He was breathing heavily, the scent of maiden blood, lavender, and magic overwhelming him. Bronach's slim hands were in his hair, lightly stroking the back of his head and the nape of his neck.

She placed her hands on each side of his face. He blinked as she lifted his face to hers. She bent forward and kissed his nose. "You know, it should be me that's nervous," she quipped in an unsteady voice, "Not you. You asked me what I wanted, D. And I want you. Fangs, annoying silence, grim outlook, sad eyes, and all."

D studied her for the first time since she dropped her glamor. Her hair was spilling around her in a golden curtain of silk. Her violet ringed eyes were dark and smokey with lust and her pouting lips were even more swollen and red from his kisses. He looked own her glowing skin to the gentle swell of her breasts down the toned lines of her stomach and back up again.

He moved his right hand back up to her body to cradle the small orb of her left breast again. Bronach gasped and bit her lip as his thumb moved in a slow circle around the plump, pink nipple. He kissed her again as he felt her nipple harden to a taunt point against his thumb. He moved his hand to the right and repeated the motions until both pink points were hard and swollen.

Bronach was breathing heavy and her eyes were fluttering as D ended the kiss. He nuzzled his nose against hers and she giggled, a light and girlish sound, innocent like a tinkering of a bell. He watched as he began to kiss down her throat, lips brushing against her shoulders, until he reached her left breast.

He could feel her heart beat. Her skin was like satin and silk and tasted like lavender tea. He licked around her nipple with the broad of his tongue. She hissed and her fingers entangled in his hair, tugging slightly as she pushed her closer to her breast.

Her skin was hot beneath his mouth and he smiled inwardly at this.

As D's mouth wrapped around her nipple, Bronach cried out and arched against him. D pushed her still with his left hand. His right hand went up to lightly pull and rub against the other. The musky scent of arousal filled the air.

He was going to taste her. He wanted to hear her scream again and again this night. If he was to be her first, he was going to make her remember every moment of this. He was going to take everything she offered and give her more in return.

This night was going to last. She accepted him. There was no fear, no thoughts of what if. She knew exactly what she was and didn't care in the least. She trusted him and infuriated him.

He nipped lightly against her breast and she cried out. He growled against her and moved to her other breast, switching places with his hand. She writhed against him, her legs already parting so he could settle between them.

She was breathless and trembling beneath him. Her skin was flushed and rosy. He lifted his head and looked at her. Her dark eyes opened as she gave a dazed, lust filled look.

"Sit up," he told her as he slid from the bed.

Bronach did and reached for his towel. One quick jerk from her hand and it fell from his waist. Her violet ringed indigo eyes widened as she looked at him.

The burning, yet curious look she gave him set him on fire. He was throbbing and hard for her as she looked at him. One white hand reached out and carefully wrapped around him.

D growled as those warm fingers ran over his thick hardness. He tilted his head back and bit his lip as pleasure shot through him, searing him where Bronach's hand lightly touched him. She innocently explored him, moving her long fingered hand up and down with the gentlest of grips. It was sweet torture.

"Wow," she whispered in a soft voice as she looked at him. He saw the trepidation in her eyes along with the wonder. He knew what questions where racing through her mind as she continued to stroke him.

The pleasure was wondrous, but not what he needed. She was sweet and maddening, and he was glad for once that he wasn't entirely human. He feared a mortal man would have already lost himself as Bronach continued to stroke him with her hand. To him, however, it was a lead up, lighting something darker within, a hunger awakening deep with in him.

D grabbed Bronach's wrist and pulled her hand from him. She blinked up at him and he settled on his knees on the floor. With her sitting on the bed she was a bit taller than him, causing her to look down at him.

"Did you not like that?" Bronach asked with a frown, "I've seen the orgies and . . . just because I'm untouched doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."

He smiled at her and reached up to stroke her hair. She gave him a hurt look. He rose up enough to give her a light kiss. When they separated, her eyes met his.

He stroked her cheek and dropped back into a kneeling position. He moved his hands to her waist then to the button of her leather pants. He unbuttoned them and unzipped them before sitting down lotus style. He took her left leg and unlaced the knee high boots. Then he slid it off her foot and let it fall to the floor. The right boot soon followed.

Then he proceeded to pull Bronach's pants from her long legs. They slid soundlessly to the floor, leaving her in black socks and black satin panties. He breathed deeply. The musky sweet scent of arousal was intoxicating.

He looked up to find Bronach's cheeks were now bright crimson as she watched him. He took her left foot and slid the sock off of her. He rubbed his thumb over the arch of her foot, admiring the slim length of it, as well as the elegant lines of her toes and muscles. She sighed as her body relaxed while he rubbed her foot.

He kissed her foot and she giggled. He tickled the bottom of her foot with the tips of his fingers and she laughed and squirmed. "D, please," she laughed as she tried to get away from him.

"You are beautiful," he told her as he slid the other sock off of her foot and began to massage it.

Bronach's face softened as she looked down at him with wide eyes. He reached up and lightly caressed her cheek. She leaned against his hand, rubbing her face against it. "_Nae_, you are the beautiful one," she said softly.

Her hands ran through his hair, "So dark. So fine . . . Like obsidian, alabaster, and sapphire."

D kissed her inner thigh and she shivered. Her muscles tensed as he ran his hands up his thighs to slide into the waist band of her panties. He ran his thumb over the mound, noting that the fabric was wet. Her hips jerked up to meet his hand.

"Relax," D told her as he slid the sodden underwear from her till it fell onto the floor with the rest of the clothing.

Bronach replied in a breathless voice, "It's hard to when you do _that._"

He looked up at her now that she was as bare as he. He stroked her right calf and admired her long legs. She was toned, like a cat or a dancer. And she had beautiful legs.

His eyes drifted up to the close cropped dark gold curls that covered her core. She smelled so incredibly _sweet_ and _intoxicating_. The thought of tasting her wetness and her blood together sent a spike of lust so powerful through D that his fangs throbbed in time with his body.

D ran his fingers over the line that bisected the mound of curls. She shivered again and her legs moved together. D reached up with his left hand and pressed on her stomach. She blinked down at him.

"Lay back," he told her.

She replied, "I want to watch you."

He pushed her back on the bed with his left hand while his right index finger stroked up that slit until it parted the soft, drenched curls. _She is so wet, _D thought as his finger was bathed in liquid heat. His middle finger joined the first while he used his thumb to pry the curls apart to reveal the dripping, slick folds within.

Bronach wiggled. D traced his index finger around the tiny nubbin placed at the apex of the sweet hollow of her body. She cried out and bucked against him as he gingerly slid his slick finger over the tiny bead there. Soon the nub swelled and became engorged under his fingers. He used the heel of his hand to rub her whole and she yelped, arching awkwardly from where her legs were dangling off the bed.

"More, more," she begged, her head thrashing on the bed above him.

D smiled at her flushed, writing body above him as he continued to stroke and tease her. She moved trying to reach something that D was more than willing to give her. He brought his left hand up to help hold her open to him.

He knew that his parasite was laying dormant right now. It was an unspoken agreement that they had. True, while he teased and taunted D about sex most of the time, the rare times that D took a lover he retreated for that time. However, D was careful just to touch her with the fingers of his left hand, not his palm. For he had a feeling that his parasite couldn't help himself from tasting Bronach.

D was having a hard time pacing himself as he moved his thumb over the hypersensitive bead and slid his index and middle fingers down to slide inside of her. Or rather, his index finger first.

Bronach cried out at the invasion. She was so tight around him that he had to carefully work his finger inside of her. He gently moved his finger enough to get her inner muscles to relax. His middle finger joined the first. He moved his fingers in until they were in at the second knuckle before twisting his hand and curving up in a come hither motion.

D rubbed the spongy tissue he found there. Bronach screamed and writhed against him. "Oh, D, oh, Lord and Lady . . . It . . . oh . . ." she cried as her fingers dug into the sheets.

Her body began to tense. He felt her legs trembling on either side of him. He moved his fingers inside of her until he felt the barrier of resistance there. His thumb moved in faster circles against her.

She arched up, taught as a bow string. She screamed and the room shook. Her muscles began to tense rhythmically around his fingers as she writhed against him. He pushed his fingers forward, tensing himself.

They hit resistance. He kept stroking her with his thumb. She was gasping and making tiny crying sounds after the initial peak.

He pushed harder.

The resistance broke. The smell of blood was overwhelming. It felt more liquid than the wetness already smearing his fingers. And he was going to taste it properly, not wanting to waste a drop of the precious gift.

It had been wonderful. More than wonderful. Bronach's whole body shook with the force of what she knew to be her first orgasm.

Her body still hypersensitive, D still continued to tease her with those brilliant fingers of his until she thought she was going to shatter again. His fingers were still stretching her, getting ready. Then she felt them brush something inside of her that was uncomfortable before pressing into her maidenhead.

She winched and hissed at the burning, painful, pulling apart tearing feeling. She wanted to close her legs at the invasion, something, anything. She turned her head and whimpered.

She heard D whisper, "I'm sorry."

His fingers withdrew. She relaxed, yet she was still sore. _Maybe this was a bad idea after all,_ she thought distantly. Everything had been exceptional and phenomenal, until he did _that_ with his fingers.

She was expecting pain. She knew it was going to hurt. Then she had wrapped her hands around his thick length and wondered how on earth was he going to fit inside of her. Far more endowed than most of the Faeries she'd seen, she knew that this was going to be painful.

Then his head replaced where his hand was.

She blinked as she felt something warm, thick, and wet lick her swollen flesh. She quivered when he slid his tongue inside of her. She cried out and her hands moved to his head, entangling in his black hair once again.

He licked at her hungrily, lapping at her like a cat would a bowl of cream. She moaned as the ache dulled, in fact, it made her want more. He growled in annoyance as she realized what he had been doing.

_He was licking the blood from my hymen, _she thought wildly.

Still, he didn't stop there.

He drew the blunt of his tongue from bottom to the top. His tongue flickered over that hypersensitive nub there. Her body jerked uncontrollably in response as she burned. Yet it was a good burning. Warm and pooling in her stomach and lower and then radiating out from that place his tongue kept flickering against.

She screamed as D's mouth wrapped around it. He began to suck lightly, flickering his tongue against it every other suck. She was writhing and mindless now, so tense and burning she could barely stand it.

Incoherent pants and cries left her lips as she endured the insane pleasure and pressure of it all. She was writhing higher and higher with it and she couldn't stand it. "D, please!" she begged as her toes curled against the bed and she shifted to try to ease the carnassial ache.

It built and built until it suddenly exploded. Bronach screamed and the room shook. The window cracked in the room as did the mirror from the force of the banshee's cry. Her body tensed and pulsed and thundered, squeezing out the eruption.

Yet D did not stop.

Within moments Bronach climaxed again. She was whimpering and trembling in the aftermath. Still, she was glowing and felt power unlike that she normally wielded.

D gave her one last sweet kiss to her still quivering flesh. He rose up. Bronach, still trembling, fought to sit up. She swallowed at the sight of her death god before her, all pale like marble, a living statue almost. Save no statue could be as perfect.

Then there was that thick, hard length of his jutting at her. He sat gracefully on the bed and gathered her into his arms. She felt that length jerk against his thigh, but he said nothing. D's eyes were glowing slightly crimson as he watched her.

He bent forward and kissed her. She grasped onto him as if he was the last lifeline in her world. She tasted herself, musky and light, on his lips as well as the coppery tang of her blood.

Her hand wrapped around his length again. He was so hard, yet the skin felt like soft silk beneath her fingers. She ran her hand down the swollen flesh and he growled deep in his throat. She ran her fingers up to the thick head and felt a bit of slickness there.

Bronach expected him to push her back on the bed and take her until they were both dizzy and sated, and in her case, sore. Instead, he gently lifted her into his lap. Her eyes widened as she smiled at him.

"Take control and find what you like," D whispered hoarsely into her ear before nipping at it to make her shudder.

Bronach kissed him. She hugged him tightly and he kissed her shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered as she looked into his eyes.

He smiled, a hypnotic smile that lit up his whole face and made her breath catch. He reached his right hand down to her soaked center and rubbed it lightly. She moaned and twitched against him as he did so. "No, thank you," he replied as she began to straddle his hips.

She gasped as the head of him nudged against her, seeking completion. He was thick and wide and she was still very untried. Bronach grasped his shoulders and tried to thrust down.

The stretching invasion burned and she yelped. D kissed her forehead and asked, "Do you want me to help?"

"Please," she begged softly, realizing that tears were welling up in her eyes.

D smiled and kissed her, slowly and passionately. Bronach returned the kiss with every fiber of her being. She wanted him. Wanted him forever and . . . _No . . . No . . . I . . ._ Bronach cut that thought off short as he gently lifted her from him.

His fingers gently separated her folds and stroked the hollow there. One finger slid inside of her, then the second. She bit his lip as he continued to slowly kiss her. His tongue darted into her mouth almost languidly as his fingers wiggled back and forth inside of her. She relaxed enough for him to slide a third finger in. His thumb began to rub that bundle of nerves again and she was lost.

D withdrew his fingers, yet his thumb kept rubbing maddening circles against her. Bronach mewled in protest at the sudden emptiness. She wanted more, she realized slowly. She felt empty, hollow and aching after that taste of thickness. She rubbed against him, dripping her juices on him, slicking his hardness in preparation.

"That's it Bronach, take what you want," D whispered in a hoarse voice.

She opened dazed eyes to him, and dimly realized how uncomfortable it probably was to have that so erect and swollen and to have her only tease him. "I'm sorry," she whimpered as she began to lower herself on him again.

"Hush, you're doing fine," D replied, his voice a growl as his length slid into her.

She winched at the tip of him invading her. She took a deep breath and pulled herself down more. Her eyes flew open as she gripped his shoulders. D growled as he thrust up inside of her, filling and stretching her past capacity.

Bronach cried out, "Lord and Lady!"

D's right hand tangled in her hair. She arched back as she felt his thickness inside of her. They were joined, complete, and she could feel him everywhere inside of her. Her heart was pounding, her body was trembling, and she was gasping hard gasps for air. She bit her lip and puled as he kissed her lips, then her cheek, and then her throat.

She rocked gently to get more contact to help fuel the slow burning within her. She sighed as D licked the thundering pulse at her throat. He kissed it once before she felt the tiny scrape of fangs against it.

Then his fangs sank into her, penetrating her just as surely as his member did.

She cried out as everything exploded in sensation.

Her vision blurred as her body caught on fire. She trembled and ached and rocked against him harder as he drank. She bit his shoulder in return with blunt teeth as she pulsated around him inside of her.

She screamed as she shattered again for the countless time that night. She held him tightly with both her arms and her body. She trembled and shuddered around him. Her body gripped him and tried to beckon him into that sheer ecstasy with her.

When D withdrew his fangs she fell back. His hand sifted through her hair. She was arched back and they were still joined. D was still hard and hot within her. She looked up with misty eyes to see a predatory look of satisfaction as he watched blood dribble from the bite on her neck to her white breasts.

He lifted her hips so he could lick the blood from her neck off to where it pooled on her breasts. She was quivering now, panting for air. "You . . . you . . ." she mumbled as she squeezed him from within.

D lifted those now crimson eyes to her and thrust into her. She moaned as he hit that one place he had found inside of her with her fingers. She yelped again as she gasped. Her vision turned white around the edges at the sheer pleasure of it.

He growled at her before kissing her passionately. He lifted her, still impaled on him, and eased her onto the bed. Then he took her legs and angled her so that they were hooked around his shoulders.

Bronach gasped as he could thrust deeper inside of her, setting her strung out body aflame once again. D took her hands and lifted them above her head. His fingers intertwined with hers as he kissed her possessively. All she could do was feel and be swept away by the passion of it all.

D took her, long, hard, hot, and fast. It was wild, some primal force. As if he was letting go of centuries of frustration. Bronach squeezed his hands between trembling screaming climaxes as it felt as if it were taking him forever to find completion.

And the strength of him was amazing. He was like poetry in motion and she was over whelmed and screaming with the joy of it. He looked down at her with those glowing eyes of his. His black hair was tickling her skin as she looked at his bewitching countenance.

He licked at the healing bite and she sighed. "That's it, D, I have you," she whispered as she wiggled a hand free to place on his back. She rubbed the toned muscles there with a smile. She kissed his cheek and he wrapped his arms around her, not losing pace.

"Take what you need," she urged as she kissed his cheek.

D licked her throat and she shuddered. He thrust harder than before. His body was trembling on top of her. His hand moved down her body to touch where they were joined.

She gasped, not sure if she could take this again. His fingers gingerly rubbed at her swollen flesh. Her breath caught again as her vision blurred. Pleasure intensified with his fingers and his thrusting. She made tiny cries as she arched against him.

She felt herself arching higher again. She laughed as she realized what D wanted and hugged him tightly. She felt her magics surge inside her, the energy incredible as her power rippled like a storm within her.

She trembled against him, gasping and crying out. She was burning once again. D thrust deep inside of her and stilled. He shuddered and she joined him with a cry while he growled. They shattered together, holding each other tightly until the tremors stopped.

D guided Bronach's legs from his shoulders. He was still inside of her. She stroked his hair and looked up at him.

He kissed the palm of her free hand and said, "Thank you."

"Stay with me," Bronach pleaded. She bit her lip and realized she spoke. D slid out of her and she winched, sore and spent.

He rolled over on his back. She rolled to face him. He reached out and stroked her hair. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, which was now mingled with hers. He drew her close and held her.

She curled up to him. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. She rested her head upon his chest. His arm wrapped lightly around her. It felt so natural to be like this, so good. And D was so warm.

"We'll talk tomorrow," D said softly.

Bronach nodded, knowing that it was far from over. After all Ciaran was still out there. Not to mention Ciaran had D's prized weapon.

They still had quite a bit to overcome. Yet, Bronach figured that they had a good chance of winning. After they won was going to be difficult, she thought sadly as D stroked her hair. Soon, she was lulled to sleep by D's breathing and him stroking her hair. However, she wasn't aware that he stayed awake simply to watch her sleep before he fell into Morpheus' grasp with her.

**To Be Continued!**

**Author's Notes: **Yes, this is the chapter that you have all been waiting for. I hope that was worth the wait. Man, I think this is the longest sex scene in history. So, feed the muse and read and review!


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